A/N: Someone brought up a question concerning John's changing back while running to the gate and why it happened. Now, with this being the big honkin' story that it is, I don't recall if I mention anywhere why that happened, though I'm pretty sure I thought about mentioning it. Just in case I didn't and don't realize it, the reason it happened was because John had reached his limit. One might think of the change as a muscle, and days of being in that form overworked it to the point where it no longer functioned. In other words, even super forms don't last forever. He simply wore out. ( I might have hoped it was implied.)
Ch. 24
Safety's Sake
Next day...
John was trying to eat with dignity, he really was. Shoveling food into his mouth like some back-woods wild man was awarding him undisguised looks of disdain from the nurses, and concerned looks from Carson.
But, crap, he was just so hungry.
Explanations weren't a must, he blamed it on the serum, and Beckett blamed it on both serum and extreme exhaustion. Either way, he was back on solid food much to John's relief, and even given extra helpings of whatever was available in the mess. In between meals were snacks of power bars, because Carson was eager for John to regain a little more weight.
Tough luck there. Perhaps it was a mite premature, but both men found it disconcerting that John hadn't gained a single pound. It had Carson cussing out the serum in both English and Gaelic, placing it as the soul perpetrator of having sucked John's body dry of every available nutrient, and slowing the process of regaining those nutrients.
John sawed fast through the small stack of pancakes, keeping bites small so they could be easily shoved into his mouth. He had to force himself to chew, and half the time didn't wait around for his teeth to do their job.
" Slow down," Carson's voice called from somewhere in the infirmary. " Unless you're keen on chokin'."
John shot a a nasty glare in the direction of the voice, licking syrup from his lips. Carson, as always to John's annoyance, was right. He took a swig of milk from a glass, then decreased his rate of sawing and stuffing.
Alarms sounded muffled from the other side of the infirmary door, and John paused half-way through another saw. Incoming wormhole, he could make out that much. Scheduled or unscheduled he couldn't, and that made him shiver.
His throat muscles constricted, and he looked in the direction where Carson's voice had carried from. The desire to know had his mouth hanging open, but the embarrassment of seeming like a paranoid kept the question trapped in his head. He recalled, like a dream with the reality of sensation he could sometimes still feel, panic and pleading to know about an incoming wormhole.
" It's just Major Lorne's team reporting in from Sriot. Nothin' more," came Carson's disembodied voice. The body to that voice stepped into view.
" And no – no news of Krissa."
Embarrassment twinged, making John cringe ever so slightly, but Carson's awareness and consideration enabled him to force a small smile.
" Thanks."
Carson nodded once. " No problem lad."
John turned back to his meal and finished sawing. No news was no news, though John's brain tried to slink toward it being bad news. Adhering to the positive as best he could, John placated his worries with the thought that Krissa was in hiding, or on another world, maybe with her cousin. He had to think that, but hated the similarity it had with the act of self preservation. Mental self preservation, since worry was already taking out his nerves with tiny pick-axes.
But it really wasn't self-preservation, just a way to hold up his patience until the time he was fit enough to walk through the gate and join the search for Krissa. He would find her, even if he had to take the sil and waltz back through Diavante's shield, armed to the teeth with P-90s and crap loads of back up.
Diavante. If he came through the gate, would they know? Could he turn invisible, follow a team while wearing the smallest form he could hold?
The heart monitor was betraying him again when it picked up speed. Carson insisted on keeping the stupid thing glued to John's chest so the nurses could know when to rush in and wake him from another nightmare. Sheppard would have ripped them off, but that would have sent the machine into a shrieking tizzy, and the infirmary staff rushing to him in a stampede of panic. John closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and calmed himself with the reminder that they had a device that detected alien presences – thanks to Chaya. Diavante's mis-matched DNA would have that thing doing waltzes around the gate room.
When the pancakes were gone, John lifted the plate and licked it clean. He turned his ravenous attention to the bowl of fruit, forcing himself to use a fork rather than his fingers. It was alien fruit mixed with cantaloupe, apple slices, and grapes. When he finished, he licked the small Styrofoam bowl clean. He did it to the plate with the toast, then drank the small bowl of oatmeal, forgoing the spoon, and licking that clean as well. The milk – well, a tongue could only go so far – so when the glass was empty he kept it held upside down over his mouth until the drops stopped coming.
And he was still hungry. It was starting to piss him off. He lifted the tray, searching for drops or spatters.
Lick that, and you'll look like a fre-eak, his mind admonished in a sing-song voice. Darned if it wasn't right. Frustration had John setting aside utensils,tilting the tray on its side, and leaning forward to clamp his teeth on the rim. There might as well have been a hole in his stomach for all the good these larger meals were doing. In fact, it felt like there was a hole, a black hole, sending the food off into some other dimension, never giving his digestive tract a chance to break it down. Although, even he had to admit he was no longer feeling the led-heavy weariness that had coated his bones the other day.
His mind turned from his continual need for food and whipped around back to Diavante. Even if that detector Chaya had brought to life caught Diavante's scent, that didn't mean they would be able to find the mutant entity. Shields might not be all that Diavante could disrupt. He could also have a knack for smacking down life signs detectors.
John bit down harder on the tray until it creaked out in protest.
What if Diavantes was here now? The heart monitor was back to betraying him, and just when Carson walked in.
" You all right son?" Carson asked, eyes darting to the monitor, and fingers pressing uncomfortably against John's neck for a better assessment through the pulse. John didn't reply. He couldn't, not until he got it through his own head that everything was fine, and that Diavante's presence couldn't be that easily concealed no matter the screw-up Ancient's skills.
Carson twisted his mouth on picking up the licked-clean plate. " Never thought I'd live to see the day when John Sheppard did what he was told. Bugger, John, you'd think with all you've eaten your stomach would be a lot less demandin'. You still hungry?"
Carson attempted to take the tray from John. John's grip on the tray with his hands was loose. His teeth were another matter.
" John, let go son." Carson tugged, but John's mouth remained firmly clamped. For some odd, even immature reason, he found a small sense of satisfaction in biting the now empty tray, as though the piece of hard plastic were responsible for the now lack of any food. Carson went from tugging to pulling.
" John, I said let go. I'll get ya somethin' else but you need to..." The tray slipped free of John's teeth, and Carson jerked back, nearly stumbling. " Let go." He lifted the tray, and his face went slightly pasty at the deep grooves left by John's teeth. John snapped from his troubled reverie on seeing his handy work, and balked.
" Sorry," he said, his voice small, ashamed, and he winced at that.
Carson kept staring at the teeth marks. " Um... don't – don't worry about it." He then quickly gathered the plate and utensils, piling them onto the tray. John looked away to the right.
Lookin' like a freak John. Making people nervous. Bad, bad move. He shrank back in abashment. Then he felt the small, warm weight of a hand on his shoulder through the scrub shirt, and turned to look back up at Carson.
The alarm was gone, replaced by a softer look. " Ya still hungry lad? I'll scrounge ya up somethin' else."
John shook his head. " Naw. Screw it, doc. If my guts want to be a jerk, I can be a jerk too. I should be satisfied with what I already ate."
Carson patted his shoulder. " Don't think that way. I'll bring ya somethin'. There's bound to be a limit to this, and we need to find it. Besides, if your body's processing nutrients at a quick rate without consequence, who are we to pass up the opportunity of getting you back to quicker health. I say go with it."
John smiled. " Thanks doc."
" Jooooohhhhnnnn. I'm here John. I'm here."
Cold snaked down John's back along his spine, soaking through the skin, through the bones, groping. A near immobile body allowed movement enough for him to arch, and his voice to whimper in childish terror.
John snapped his eyes open, and snapped his body up. The monitor going at marathon run speed, but not to the point that had a nurse at John's bedside. His hand went straight to his twitching back beneath the scrub, where the memory of ice-fingers lingered, though the skin was warm. He rubbed his back where he could reach while steadying his panting breaths. His eyes were all over the dusky infirmary that vibrated with the low, near inaudible hum of machines both human and Ancient made. John was alone, for the most part, not counting anyone who might be in Carson's office or puttering around out of sight.
John was shaking hard enough to rattle the bed rails, and his heart refused to descend. His dreams were far too vivid for assurances. Diavante could be here, probably was here, and the prospect was scaring the hell out of him. The sil, he couldn't get the sil, whatever he wanted it for. John couldn't let Diavante use it against Atlantis, if his intentions were along such lines.
John reached out with an unsteady hand to the monitor, and flicked it off. He pulled the nodes from his chest, then the I.V. needle from his hand.
John couldn't let Diavante get the sil.
John moved with cat-like stealth from the bed to the floor, slipping from it into a crouch. The transition came smooth as water flowing over John's body, scales replacing skin, bones shifting, stretching, elongating, and spines, spikes, and whiskers sliding from him, ripping through the bandages and scrub shirt. The cast remained on his wrist, and the wrap on his ankle. They didn't hinder his movements, but the healing bones did. Pain was still a distant whisper at the back of his mind. Instinct, however, pushed caution, so when John moved sinuously as a serpent across the floor, his previous grace was lacking thanks to the pronounced limp in his arm and leg.
Atlantis still knew him. He thought the infirmary doors open, and slipped out, curving as best he could with cracked ribs to keep along the walls and the shadows there. Only his claws clacked on the metal floors. He made his way through the darkened corridors toward the lab where the scents of people and machines hit him before he even saw the doors. He heard no sounds, but kept crouched close to the wall when he thought the doors open. The lights were off, but the darkness was patched with gray when John's eyes absorbed every iota of light to be scrounged. He moved with a quiet hiss to the back of the lab and the table there, then rose up on hind legs and carefully sifted through the various items until he came to the one he was looking for.
He took the sil into his mouth, and slipped back out of the lab.
Diavante would not get the sil.
But John needed a place to hide, lay low, keep safe. Someplace Diavante wouldn't be able to find. Yet John was not in a position to say what Diavante could and could not find. Still, trying was better than nothing. John sniffed the air and took note of the stronger human scents and their location. Still keeping to the wall, he let the smells guide him away from those on patrol or simply taking a midnight walk.
John knew where he needed to go. The only place he could go.
SGASGASGASGA
Weir was in a full-tilt run to the infirmary. The doors barely opened for her all the way on entering to find Dr. Beckett standing next to an empty bed with rumpled sheets and blankets. He was talking hurriedly with the nurse, who was pale-faced and gearing toward a panic attack.
" What's going on?" Elizabeth demanded, looking from the bed to the now turned doctor. Behind him, the nurse was ringing her hands and trying to hold back tears. Beckett just looked exasperated.
" Well, if you haven't already guessed, John's missin'," Carson quickly explained. " Katie called me in. Said she heard the heart monitor stop, came out to check the Colonel, and found him gone."
" I don't know how he did it," Katie rapidly explained. " He shouldn't have been able to get by me. I was right where I could see him! And I didn't hesitate, I moved when the monitor stopped."
Elizabeth's heart faltered. " What?" She then shook her head. " Never mind. We need to find him." She touched the radio at her ear, and called in people one at a time. When she finished, she gave Carson a questioning look.
" Do you know any reason why he would leave?"
Carson's face went slack. " Lass, I know a hundred reasons, most centered around the fact that he never likes the infirmary much, the rest stemmin' from all the hell he's been through. Too much to take your pick from."
Elizabeth let out a sharp breath. " Well, at least we know he hasn't gone through the gate. Security needs to be warned..." She squinted, then widened her eyes. " You don't think he's... you know... not quite himself?" Her eyes flicked to the nurse.
Carson caught on quick. " Oh bloody hell I hope not. Some might not hesitate to shoot."
People began coming in, Lorne first, followed by Ronon, Teyla, Rodney, and several soldiers.
" What's going on?" Rodney asked right off, his clothes rumpled as though he'd been sleeping in them. His eyes went straight to the empty bed. " Where's Sheppard?"
" That's why I called you all here," Weir said. " To find Colonel Sheppard." She looked at each attending person piercingly. " But you only. No one else. The rest of Atlantis needs to stay in their quarters or where ever they are at until we find him. And..." she swallowed. " Under no circumstances – no matter what you see – are you to shoot anything. That goes for stunning."
Lorne and Teyla nodded in understanding, Ronon grunted, McKay paled, and the rest of the soldiers just looked confused.
Lorne clipped his P-90 to his vest. " You heard Dr. Weir," he told the other men. " Keep 'em stowed."
The rest of the gathered soldiers followed suit, still perplexed. He then divided them up – one to go with Rodney, another Teyla, Ronon, Dr. Beckett, Weir, and himself. Once that was established, they left the infirmary and split up, with Weir heading to the control room. From there she sent a city wide announcement for everyone to remained where they were, made assurances that everything was fine and that this was nothing more than a drill, and headed back out to join the search.
" Ma'am," the young soldier accompanying her began timidly. " May I ask... um... why the precaution?"
" Saftey's sake," Weir said. " The Colonel's safety. He's not well..."
And possibly not human at the moment. How the hell does one explain that without rubbing a few nerves raw?
The radio at her ear crackled. " Elizabeth? Rodney. The sil's gone."
" Rodney, what?"
" I went to the lab to grab some life signs detectors, and when I looked at the table I didn't see the sil."
Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. " Okay, Rodney relax. Chances are Colonel Sheppard has it."
" And chances are he doesn't. Elizabeth, maybe we need to get more people in on this search."
" No! I will not risk John's safety. Besides, we would know if Diavante were here."
" We don't know anything about this Diavante guy! He might have technology – or a self-inflicted ability – to get past every sensor we have."
Weir, moving faster through the halls, sighed. " Rodney, one problem at a time. Find John first, make sure he's all right." Her feet were taking her straight to John's quarters. One upon a time, she would have fought herself to keep from opening the doors. Opening them now, seeing them dark and empty, sent a electrified jolt of icy shock through her. It took her a moment to regain her composure and walk in, but it was a slow, halting walk as she made her way around the bed. The now blood-free corner was as empty as the rest of the room. She hurried out, and felt relief in having the room at her back.
Her mind raced as fast as her feet through the list of places John could possibly be. Too many places, really, especially if John were trying to hide. Or maybe he wasn't trying to hide. Maybe he was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to gate off the planet. Or, maybe Diavante was here and John... What, was taken? Killed? Running? Fighting?
Elizabeth hated possibilities. But something deep inside her was whispering that John was just hiding, and that she needed to keep that in consideration above everything else. It wasn't just a feeling, it was logic. John's spooked state of mind dictated so. The man had been feeling unsafe, worried, therefore he would want to be someplace safe.
Which was... which was what? Where? Balcony, bedroom, some hidden, unexplored part of the city? Elizabeth tapped her radio, contacting Teyla and asking her. She didn't know. Neither did Ronon, or Rodney.
" Maybe he took off with a puddle jumper," Rodney suggested.
" We would have known." Elizabeth looked into empty rooms, even storage spaces. In her frustration, and as a long shot, she contacted Heightmeyer. She filled her in as quickly as she could and on as much as she could.
" Did you try the jumper bay?" was her immediate response.
" I'm there now." Ronon. " We're checking the jumpers. Haven't found him yet."
" Trust me, I think he's there. You just need to know where to look."
Elizabeth changed direction, heading for the jumper bay. She was starting to get the idea of where Kate was going with this. Elizabeth knew John enough as the type of man to never lose his cool, or his mind, no matter how terrified he was. And if instinct driven, of course he would go to a place of safety, whatever his reasons for sneaking out of the infirmary.
She came into the bay to see Ronon and a marine checking each of the jumpers. Ronon looked over at her, then pointed at where a jumper appeared to be missing.
" I think McKay might be right."
Elizabeth looked at the empty spot, and almost laughed. It was John's favorite jumper, his jumper, that was missing. She hurried over to the empty space. What was it her grandmother had once said? A very religious woman, but not the fanatic kind. Anything she ever had to say always rang wise rather than berating.
You can't rely on your senses alone. Too easily deceived. And then they played a game in which Elizabeth was blindfolded, and made to smell an orange while eating an apple, except that the apple had tasted like an orange.
She'd also said that gut feelings should be given more credit. God doesn't scream at you. He tends to be more quiet about it.
Elizabeth slowed, and reached out with both hands, moving deliberately until her palms hit something cool and solid. Again, laughter tried to erupt from her throat. Instead, she just smiled.
" He's here." She slapped the invisible puddle jumper. Ronon and the two soldiers came up beside her and also felt. Elizabeth called in Rodney and Carson, and as she waited, felt along the jumper, slapping its sides, then its window when she came to it, calling John's name.
" Colonel Sheppard, are you in there?" No reply. The rest of the team and the soldiers accompanying them arrived.
" Rodney, can you get the jumper doors open?" Elizabeth asked. Rodney approached to where the jumper was supposed to be.
" Elizabeth, I can't even see where to plug anything in." He reached out until his hand pressed against the unseen surface. He moved around it until he came to where the doors were supposed to be. " If he sealed it, then we're just going to have to wait until he comes out." He continued to feel along the back, then began banging on it. " Hey, Colonel! You in there? Come on, open up. It's just us."
He continued to bang, slap, then stumbled back when there came a clunk and a whine. A door opened up in thin air as the bay of the jumper descended. Elizabeth moved around the jumper to stand beside a gaping Rodney.
" Did you...?" she asked. Rodney clapped his jaw shut.
" Probably hit the panel," he said. " Or something."
The interior was dark, even when Rodney and Carson along with Elizabeth, stepped inside. The lights of the bay were enough to show them the form huddled on the right side jumper bench. Rodney went to the controls and got the lights up and the jumper decloaked. Both Carson and Elizabeth went to the bench where John was curled up in a deep sleep with the sil clutched to his chest. The look on his face was pure peace, total relaxation.
" Well," Carson said, kneeling by John and putting his fingers to the Colonel's neck to check his pulse. " Haven't seen that in a while." John didn't stir at the pressure on his throat. He was absolutely comatose. However, when Rodney came over and tried to remove the sil from John's grasp, it wouldn't budge.
" What the hell!" Rodney snapped – which sounded more like a whine. He looked at Elizabeth in nervous uncertainty. " He won't let go."
Carson, never without his stethoscope when on Atlantis, had it on his ears as he listened to John's heart and breathing. " So, let him have it. This is the best sleep he's been under in days." Carson stood and began rummaging through the compartments of the jumper until he came to the emergency blankets. He pulled two out, and began shaking them open.
Elizabeth arched her eyebrow at that. " You're letting him stay?"
" Aye, what the bloody hell. If it means him gettin' a good nights sleep, so be it then. I'll stay with him."
Rodney looked at Elizabeth imploringly. " What about the sil?"
Elizabeth shrugged. " You're not working on it right now. I'm sure John'll hand it back over once he's awake. Besides, in the long run, it's his device for the time being."
Beckett had a blanket ready to drape over John only to pause and lower it. He knelt back beside the Colonel, placing a hand on his side, and pulling the scrub. " Huh, wonder how that happened?"
The back of the scrub was full of holes, as were the bandages beneath. Then he swiftly adjusted the scrub back into place. " You know what? Doesn't matter." He rose, and draped the blankets over John.
It wasn't lost on any of them, those tears in the cloth. They didn't have to speculate, or even say it, and out of consideration for John, bring it to anyone else's attention. Not like they needed to anyways. Although Rodney had gone slightly pale.
Personally, Elizabeth didn't care. She lowered herself into sitting at the head of John's 'bed'.
" You stayin' too, lass?" Carson asked, setting himself down on the bench across from John.
" For a little bit," Elizabeth replied.
" Why?" Rodney asked.
Elizabeth didn't reply. It wasn't something she could explain in a way that Rodney would understand. There was a part of her that still wasn't accustomed to having John back, another that needed to make sure he didn't vanish on her – again, and another that simply felt like keeping him company even if he wasn't awake. She was in no ways upset that John had pulled another vanishing act, mostly because she was in complete understanding as to why he did it. Everyone needed a security blanket from time to time. The jumper was John's. And Elizabeth had to admit, with its cloaking and shield capabilities, she was feeling a lot more at ease than she usually did in this little ship.
Rodney, still waiting for an answer, finally rolled his eyes. " Whatever. The three of you are nuts, you know that? I'm going back to bed."
" Tell the others to do the same," Elizabeth said. Rodney headed out. When he was gone, Carson went to the controls to close the bay doors and reestablish the cloak. He pulled out two more emergency blankets and handed one to Elizabeth, wrapping the other around himself.
" You want the bench?" he asked. She shook her head.
" No, I won't be staying long." It ended up being a lie when she fell asleep ten minutes later.
TBC...
SGASGASGASGA
A/N: There will be more critter John to come in the future. His dragon days are far from being over.
