A/N: I'm sorry, I just can't buy into the whole comparing John to Kirk thing. John's too much of a goof – in a good, cute, cuddly sort of way.
Ch. 23
Arduous Art of Conversation
The next day...
Diavante rose up, growing and growing like black smoke roiling into itself, devouring itself, shifting and sliding over itself. A blackened hole bordered by a serrated edge of dagger teeth widened above Krissa's head. With her hands clasped before her and twilight breeze tugging at her amber cloak, she looked quite peacefully ready to accept her fate.
So finalized. She accepted without question.
Except tears were spilling from eyes too old for such a young face.
" It's all right, Mr. Sheppard." Her voice caught, choked. It wasn't all right. " It will be all right."
Help me. Please don't let him take me back!
" It will be all right." Small now, growing smaller as the mouth slowly descended to cast its shadow over Krissa.
" It's all right."
Don't let him take me back!
" All right..."
Sheppard, unable to move, to act, wept.
The mouth drew closer...
SGASGASGASGASGA
Rodney slapped the cylindrical device in his palm while pacing a hole before the infirmary doors.
Go in there, go in there, go in there... he doesn't bite...
You sure?
Yes I'm sure!
You don't seem sure.
Beckett said it was safe!
Maybe he was just being nice to Sheppard.
What! Get real. Beckett wouldn't hold back if Sheppard was a danger just to placate the man.
Then why don't you go on in and find out for yourself?
I will!
But he hadn't, and that was the fourth argument ending along the same lines he had since taking up his prowl before the doors. Rodney had no qualms in one on one conversations with himself. Contrary to popular belief, to talk and answer one's self was not a sign of insanity, but an act of a complicated and forever busy mind doing what it could to organize itself.
Although the present conversation was starting to make Rodney wonder. It was getting him no where.
Hating to admit it but having to, Rodney was nervous about seeing the Colonel in his present state – whatever it might be. And, despite Beckett's assurances, Rodney wasn't assured. Fine, so Sheppard had some control over the change. Did he have control over his own mind, his sanity? The only reason Sheppard had gone to Sriot was for a vacation because he'd been cracked in the head.
Super nova bust there. After hearing Sheppard's story, Rodney had every right to feel nervous about John's mentality and how stable it was.
And he hated himself for it. His logical mind never did know when to shut up. So Sheppard might be a little insane and can turn into a creature at will – it didn't mean he would, and it still wasn't a reason to avoid him. It was giving into cowardice, just when Rodney was starting to believe cowardice wasn't such a strong trait with him after all.
This is stupid! Just go in there!
Rodney stopped pacing and looked down at the object now held in both hands, still flecked and smeared with dried blood. He really needed to clean it up.
Should never have let John go for a walk.
The doors slid open, causing Rodney to jump and jerk around to nearly bowl into Beckett.
" Oh, bugger it, lad! Do you always have to be in such a rush?"
Rodney indignantly stepped back. " Actually... I wasn't – in a rush, I mean. Is the Colonel awake?"
" No. But seein' as how you're not in a rush, which means you're not busy, you can be the one to stay by the bed when he does. I'd really rather not have him wakin' up alone. He won't admit it – probably since he doesn't realize it – but it makes him nervous if no one's about."
Before Rodney could form an excuse not to stick around for baby-sitting duty, Carson grabbed his wrist and hauled him through the doors and to the back where Sheppard was stationed. The man was huddled on his right side under a pile of blankets, and Rodney would have liked to have said the look on his face was peaceful, except that it wasn't. His brows were scrunched, shadowing his already sunken, gray-shaded eyes, and the eyes themselves were moving rapidly beneath the lids.
" Is he all right?" Rodney asked when Beckett positioned him beside the bed. The Highland doc then dragged a stool over for Rodney.
" Aye. Just dreamin'. He gets like that."
Rodney pointed at John's flank. " I thought he had broken ribs. Doesn't having broken ribs make it kind of hard to be sleeping like that?"
Carson planted his hands on his hips as he stared down at John. A tremor ran through the overly slender comatose body, one that actually made the bed rails rattle.
" You'd think so. But Colonel Sheppard's body seems to be healing quite rapidly. The more serious breaks have fused and are more like cracks now, and I've already removed the stitches from the deeper gashes. Then there's this increased tolerance for pain he now has, coupled with pain meds. To tell you the truth, I doubt he can feel a thing. I say chalk it up as another quirk of the serum."
Rodney moved closer to the bed and leaned in for a better look at Sheppard's face. He screwed up his own face doubtfully.
" Healing? He looks sick. Are you sure he's not sick?"
" Quite, Rodney. He's still mendin' and his body still hasn't gotten its strength back. In fact that's why I need ya here so that I can run to the mess for a quick bite and to bring Sheppard some food. Kaylee and Katie are about if the Colonel needs any medical help, but I shouldn't be too long."
Rodney, still scrutinizing the Colonel's pale, wan, but tense features, nodded and waved absent-mindedly. " Yes, yes, go."
Carson clapped Rodney on the shoulder as a wordless thanks, then hurried from the infirmary. Rodney's uncertain perusal done, he slowly lowered himself onto the stool and turned his studying to the device. With the truth of what this device was out in the open, Rodney was getting antsy about wanting to test it. It was the oxymoron of what was really needed on Atlantis – shields. But thinking back to the Cyladrans, the device's merits had won him over to the thing. Rodney's arm – free of the cast – still twinged and flared if turned the wrong way or over taxed. But he recalled very little of his time in the cast. Hell, he didn't even really remember the pain. Once he, Teyla, and Ronon had been marched to the gate only to find Sheppard still missing, the pain had slunk off to a corner while Rodney focused all energy on ranting, raving, demanding a rescue be mounted, and searching for a way to disrupt this 'illusion shield' the Cys were so proud of to get John back.
Now, here he was, holding Sheppard's salvation in his hands long after the fact. But the fact was still fresh on his mind, as was the anger whenever it cared to spark. His fear of the device was gradually shifting toward obsession. If he could figure out how it worked, even make more, then incidents like the ones with the Cys would never repeat.
More than that, though logic and harsh realism always prevailed, Rodney allowed for the hope of this Krissa chick's retrieval, and the chance to meet her.
Rodney ran his thumb over the tiny console of the control panel, lightly enough not to accidentally press anything. Fascinating as the thing had become, he was still holding to cautious apprehension.
A rustle of cloth had Rodney's head snapping up to look at John. The Colonel was shifting in his sleep, curling tighter into himself as another tremor shook him. The heart monitor was going fast for a heart that was supposed to be slow under the effects of sleep. Beneath the beeping, almost inaudible, Rodney could have sworn he heard a moan, and sobbing.
" No..." A whispered plea. Rodney stood, setting the device on the now unoccupied stool, and moved in closer to Sheppard's shivering form.
" No, no, no, please no..."
Rodney placed his hand on the Colonel's arm buried under the blankets. " Colonel?"
" I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I tried, I tried, I tried... It's not okay, it's not, It's not okay... he ate her, oh gosh he ate her, don't look Krissa, don't... Don't..."
Rodney gulped. He didn't recall Weir mentioning anything about anyone getting eaten, but then her story had been the abridged version after all. He tried to gently shake John.
" Hey, Colonel, wake up."
The man was shaking hard, gasping, panting, still sobbing. " Run... run, run, run... don't look... run..."
The monitor was picking up speed, impossible speed. Rodney's own heart was doing a little increase of it's own. He shook harder.
" Colonel, come on, wake up. Nappy times over, Carson wants you awake. Come on..." His voice was starting to waver.
" Run... run... Oh gosh, no, run... run..."
John shot up in bed so fast the motion nearly knocked Rodney to the ground.
" Ruuuuuuuuuuuuun!" John screamed, clawing at the blankets, the rails, trying to scramble in a mad dash attempt from the bed. Rodney wrapped his arms around the Colonel's chest and leaned forward with all his weight to push the Colonel back. Rodney expected a struggle, even to be shoved away. Instead, he could neither push John back against the bed, but neither did he have to hold him in place. The man had gone stick rigid with hands gripping the bed rails for dear life. Rodney could feel the man's heart slamming hard as a fist and fast as flapping bird wings. The Colonel's chest was practically pulsating with quick, heaving breaths.
Rodney reluctantly, hesitantly, slid his arms away from the colonel, but kept his hands resting on both the man's back and chest. He could feel, through the scrub shirt and the bandages, the bones of Sheppard's back, the ribs and backbone with a sickening clarity, and it made him wonder with irritation why he'd been so paranoid about the man in the first place. Irritation melted into pity, then pity to worry on looking up at at John's colorless face with its distant, 'no-one-is-home' but still terrified stare.
The two on duty nurses joined the now quiet fray, one nurse taking John's arm, the other checking the IV and monitor lines.
" What happened?" the nurse trying to ease Sheppard back into a prone position asked. Beside them, the monitor descended as the heart rate descended.
Rodney shrugged. " I – I'm not sure. Bad dream I think."
The nurse moved one hand to John's shoulder, pushing against it, but the man refused to budge. " Colonel Sheppard, you really need to lay back down..."
John shook his head, still staring. " No..." he pulled in a deep lungful of air, and on letting it out melted into a slump. " No, I don't want to. I'm good. I'm good..."
The second nurse raised the head of the bed.
" No, you need to. Come on, just lean back a little, it's all right."
John acquiesced, slowly easing back into the now upright pillow. Rodney slid his hand from the back, but kept his other on John's chest in case he attempted another bolt. He could feel John's heart, now out of its psychotic rampage, but still thudding. John closed his eyes, sighing, melting into the bed.
" Rodney? Is there a reason your hand is on me?" John opened one eye half-slit to glare at Rodney. Rodney returned the look with both eyes.
" Are you going to stay?"
John's eye slid back shut. " Rodney, right now, the prospect of moving makes me drowsy. So yes."
Rodney removed his hand. The two nurses exchanged grins, and the one checking the lines patted John on the shoulder.
" Do you need anything Colonel? Water, something for pain?"
John nodded. " Water."
The nurse poured a glass from the plastic piture on the table by the bed and handed it to John. " Anything else?"
John shook his head no, so the two nurses left. John took small sips from the plastic cup, his tongue flickering over his lips.
" I'm hungry," he stated. Rodney couldn't help it, the words unnerved him.
" Carson just went to get you food. He should be back soon." He'd better be back soon.
John lowered his gaze in an act of disappointment. " Oh." Then he looked up at Rodney with rekindled hope. " Got anything on you?"
Somehow, that sounded worse, being followed by 'I'm hungry' and all.
" Um, no."
" Not even a power bar?"
McKay fumbled through his pockets until a Power bar was produced, but stalled on handing it over. " Won't Beckett be pissed? I mean I thought the whole point to the gradual reintroduction to food was so that your body doesn't go into shock. Power bars are nutrient city, so you might as well be asking me for an MRE."
John perked at this. " That actually sounds better. Know one with a turkey sandwich?"
Rodney rolled his eyes and stuffed the bar back into his pocket, then stepped away when John reached out to try and take it.
" Oh no you don't! I will not be taken down with you when Carson gets all over your skinny butt for snacking. Just wait. The man's bringing you dinner. You could at least have the decency to have some patience and wait to see what he brings you."
" It's not a matter of what he brings, Rodney, it's a matter of being hungry." John lifted a shaking hand to illustrate. " Make that starving. It freakin' hurts Rodney."
McKay was ready to accuse John of exaggerating, except the desperate look on the Colonel's face as his focus honed on the pocket holding the power bar was painfully familiar to Rodney, recalling a mad grab for nothing more than a cup of broth that couldn't fill a mouse's stomach.
Once again, here came the pity. " Sorry, Colonel. The witch doctor's orders. You can hold out a little longer, can't you?" Just in case, Rodney took another step back should John decide to lunge for the food. It really was an uncomfortable sight – John pale and thin, hands shaking, practically begging for food. Rodney's refusal to hand over one measly power bar was making him feel lower than pond scum.
Time for a massive change in subject. He twisted around and snatched up the device, giving it another once over.
" So um..." he held it out to John. " How's it work?"
John looked up at the device, and something passed over his face, something Rodney could have sworn was a combination of pain and sorrow. He didn't take it, and in fact looked away to the wall across from him.
" There are four codes. One for identification," he spoke mechanically like an automated voice relaying instructions, " one to activate, one to deactivate, and one to counter."
" Counter?"
" Another sil?"
" What's a sil?"
John turned his gaze up at Rodney. " What you're holding. It's called a sil. You want to know the codes?"
" That would be nice, as long as none of them set this thing to explode."
John narrowed his eyes. " It's not a bomb, McKay. It collapses shields for a time so that anything can get through. Wasn't my sudden appearance example enough to prove what it can do?"
Rodney looked uncomfortably down at the sil. " I wasn't exactly present for that part. Although you did have Elizabeth a little freaked."
John quirked an eyebrow nervously. " A little? You sure?"
" Actually you scared the hell out of everyone. So what are the codes?"
" Give me a piece of paper and I'll write them down."
Rodney looked at John in surprise. " You still remember them?"
" Remembered a MENSA question, didn't I? Yeah I remember. I always remember when it's important."
" Oh yeah? When's my birthday?"
John's eyes went heavy-lidded. " Is that important?"
Rodney rolled his own eyes. " Fine, whatever." He then dug into his pockets until a pen and scrap of paper was produce. " Here, write away."
John took them into his unsteady hand. He rested the paper against his casted arm, and held it down as he wrote. " They're in order this time."
" Huh?"
John shook his head. " Never mind. Here." He handed both paper and pen back. Rodney took both, looking the codes over. He then shoved both back into a pocket.
" Okay then." Rodney turned to go.
" Hey, where're you going?"
Rodney turned back, readying a snappish retort about getting on the ball and studying the device per Elizabeth's orders. His jaw snapped shut in stunned silence at the look of hurt on John's face. Guilt hit fast and hard, and Rodney didn't even know why.
" I – uh – need to get to work on this thing."
" Can't it wait?"
" Why?"
John shrugged. " I wanna talk. Catch up. I've been gone for... a long time, so I'm kind of behind. And I've never really got to just talk with anyone. I'm either asleep or they're busy. And, of course, it's not like I can get out and about whenever I want. Anything interesting happen while I was, um... gone?"
With a slow sigh, Rodney set himself back on the stool, holding the sil in his lap. " Interesting... interesting... well, Kavanaugh nearly blew us all to hell when he almost 'and I use that term loosely' overloaded a generator for one of his projects. Ronon attempted to learn how to cook – bad idea of course. Never try anything he makes, by the way. Anything. That includes grilled cheese sandwiches. I came up with a formula that increased the efficiency of the generator the Sriots gave us. Good for hiding life signs unless a wraith decides to land. We're thinking about following the Sriot way and building some safety bunkers underground or in the nearest mountain and use the generators for that. Um... Someone got married, don't know who. Someone had a baby so they won't be coming back to Atlantis..."
" Anything off world?"
Rodney really should have seen it coming. " Oh... uh... um... No, not really."
John gave Rodney one of his penetrating, no-nonsense, no argument, and no crap stares. The one he normally gave Rodney when the physicist was taking too long toying with some off-world, Ancient device with bad warning vibes vibrating the air.
" Why don't I believe that?"
Rodney straightened and feigned annoyance. " Um, because you think just because your off-world missions end bad everyone else's has to as well?" Rodney winced when John's brow knit. He sagged his shoulders in defeat. " All right, you wanna know? There were no off-world missions. After your little vanishing act, they were all canceled. The only off-worlding was to Sriot to look for you, and by the Athosians so they could do some trading. Other than that, all the teams were grounded. The suspicion was that the Cys were involved. Gate travel wasn't going to resume until..." Rodney was really starting to hate this. It made no sense to him why he always ended up playing devil's advocate when people liked to point out how much of an anti-people person he was.
He sucked at this stuff, he didn't deny it. If anything, he tried to push the fact in order to keep out of such situations as this.
" Until what?" John prodded.
" Until... after your funeral."
John's reaction was to stare blankly at McKay. " Funeral?"
" Yes, Colonel, funeral. You were gone for almost a month, we searched for that long with nothing to show for it, and the SGC was pushing Elizabeth for accepting what we all thought was the inevitable – that you were gone, and that a replacement commander needed to be sent in as soon as possible. In fact, your timed arrival couldn't have been more impeccable. You really know how to make an entrance, you know that? You actually had the SGC flipping over backwards because you came back just when they were ready to hand over Atlantis' military keys to Caldwell. In fact, they still are if..."
John's eyes darted down at the sil. " I prove mentally unfit to run Atlantis' defense," he finished, his voice subdued rather than bitter, as though he accepted the possibility that his command could be relinquished. It made Rodney squirm.
" You wouldn't... let them, would you? I mean, not easily right? No offense to the guy who outranks you, but I honestly don't think he has a clue how to run this place..."
John smiled, and it seemed real enough. " Is that your way of saying you missed me?"
McKay snorted. " Don't even look that deep into it. I have a higher tolerance for you than Caldwell, that's all."
John let out a quiet, breathy laugh. " Yeah, I missed you too Rodney."
Rodney scowled. Yet another reason he hated this. Heartfelt could be rather nauseating at times. " I bet. Sure you had time to miss me, or any of us for that matter?"
" What do you mean?"
" Oh come on, you know what I mean. What you told Weir was a veritable fairy-tale, complete with monsters and damsels in distress. Krissa wasn't a blond, was she? Totally complete the picture if she was..."
John's smile – and all humor – was gone in a flash, leaving him frowning and staring at Rodney as though the physicist had grown another head, and it was cussing at John. Gradually, like clouds gathering to block the sky, John's face darkened.
" She's a twelve year old girl, Rodney."
Now it was Rodney's turn to go slack-jawed.
Open mouth, insert foot, kick own teeth out. " Oh," he stuttered. " Oh – uh, Elizabeth didn't say... mention... an age"
" Didn't say or you weren't listening? Seriously, get your head out of the gutter, McKay. Someone says 'girl' or 'woman' and you automatically think player...! Crap, you really think I'm like that? Oh, wait, yes you do! And you know what, I'm sick of it!"
Rodney flinched. " Jeez, calm down. I'm sorry, all right? I just... I'm sorry. Yes, I heard girl, Krissa, no age mentioned and... I thought... You know this is why I'm not good with people! And this is why I don't like talking. I'm sorry that I tend to jump to conclusions and I know it isn't fair, but it happens, and sometimes I don't have any control over it. Really, if you have to know, it is a jealousy thing since you're better at talking to women and I suck at it, that's all it is, and it tends to get out of hand. You have a Kirk complex and I don't... Colonel?"
It was apparent from the way John was staring down at his hands that he had stopped listening some time ago. Rodney tensed.
" Sheppard? What..."
" She saved my life first," John said.
Rodney scooted himself and the stool closer. " What? Who?"
" Krissa. She saved my life first."
McKay scrunched his brow in confusion. " Okay."
Silence fell between them, with John just staring, his face without expression, his gaze turned inward. Rodney waited with as much patience as he could gather, but had to push down on his own knee to keep his leg from twitching.
John had never seemed so un-Kirk like as he did at that very moment. Loss and defeat flickered in and out of his eyes like lightning as he contemplated something that was obviously beyond him, and tearing him down. Then he blinked.
" I... Don't know... if I saved hers."
John looked at McKay, all questioning, eyes actually asking Rodney for the answer he so desperately wanted.
Was Krissa okay?
With all the crap John had been through, Rodney wished like mad that he could answer in the affirmative, and say that Krissa had been saved. Deep down, Rodney knew that if he could just say ' yes, John, you did', then the old John, the one that vanished the day the Cys had taken them, would be able to find his way back, and everything would go back to the way it was. Rodney had no proof this would prove true, only a gut feeling stronger than any gut feeling he'd ever had. So strong he had to look away as frustration began shredding his insides.
" Weir sent a team to go look for her. She doesn't make any promises, but if they find her, they'll bring her back here." Rodney then cleared his throat loudly and forced himself to look back at John. The answer seemed to have satisfied the desperation enough for it not to be so palpable, and Rodney relaxed.
" You're not going Bartleby on me, are you?"
John shook his head. " You still on that analogy?"
" Actually, that one's kind of grown on me. Seriously, though, when you went for that walk, it wasn't because... because you were running away, right? Not that I thought that! Well, okay, sometimes it popped into my head, but only because a few – I won't say who – considered it. You were pretty down about the whole Mathers incident and... some people worried that you..."
" Finally flipped?" John finished. Again, no flat or bitter tone, but neither subdued or accepting. If anything, he sounded amused. In fact, the corner of his mouth was turned up in a small smile.
Rodney winced all the same. " Yeah, flipped out, went AWOL."
John lifted a single finger. " First off, whatever's going on up here," he pointed to his own head, " will never get in the way of my responsibility to this city and the people here. I would never let that happen. Second of all, the walk had just been a walk. The whole being kidnapped thing by a psychotic old lady who was more the big bad wolf than granny down the road was not part of the agenda. What happened to me was a fluke. But... I don't regret it. At least not yet."
Then John smiled, wistfully. " It wasn't all that bad – some of it. There were actually a few good times. You really need to meet Krissa, Rodney. You'd like her. You'd get along great."
Rodney smiled back. " Believe it or not, I'm actually looking forward to it."
The door whispered open and Beckett entered balancing a tray in both hands. " 'Bout time you awoke, Colonel. Got your lunch right here."
It was a bowl of soup, again, but this time with toast, some juice, and a bowl of fruit. Beckett moved around Rodney to set the tray on the table. The moment he did, John lunged, nearly spilling from the bed in his haste to get to the food. Rodney almost slipped from the stool in shock.
" Wow. And I thought Ronon was the only one capable of packing it in so fast."
If John heard, it wasn't like he was going to waste precious eating moments to respond.
TBC...
