A/N: After this, one chapter to go. Then... then... it's over. Wah!
Ch. 30
Home
Rodney wasn't really sleeping. He had to pretend to in order to stay off the busy-hands nurses with their needles and attempts at sedating him rather than simply answering his questions concerning what the hell was going on. So when the infirmary doors rushed open in a flood of demanding voices shouting orders, Rodney's eyes snapped open in response and his head snapped up in time to see them wheeling in a blood-coated, supine Sheppard. With a one, two, three they transported the overly slender, overly bruised, overly messed up body onto a bed to immediately begin covering it with heating blankets. An oxygen mask was placed over the wan face, IV stuck in the hand, monitor to the chest to pick up a rhythm that couldn't be healthy, and then the curtain was pulled.
" He's lost a lot of blood," came Carson's voice. " Through the shoulder. We need to get him warm, I need to do surgery..."
Rodney swallowed back bile at that. It meant they would be moving him again to where it was more sterile. He stopped listening after that – kind of, until he heard words like 'possible broken ribs and dislocated shoulder'. It was official. Sheppard never got a break. The man was like fine china – tap him and he chips. Every other time one would think him born out of solid rock.
Of course, even rocks can shatter.
Rodney sighed wearily since his friend was otherwise unable to do so for himself. Needless to say, it sucked to be Sheppard.
They did move him again after a time, still under blankets and hooked up to IVs and the monitor being wheeled along with him to the clean room. No time like the present to start cutting up and digging around in the Lt. Colonel. They hadn't even cleaned him up yet, probably waiting until they were in more sterile conditions.
In the sudden silence, Rodney heard sniffling. He turned his head, and jumped, aggravating his sore chest, at seeing a little girl – ragged and dirt-smeared – sitting on one of the beds with hands clasped in her lap as a nurse checked her over.
" ... bumps and bruises, nothing serious," the nurse, Kaylee by her name-tag, said. " Just in case, we may need to take X-rays. Can you wait here for a moment, sweety? I'm just going to scrounge you up something to wear so you can get cleaned up."
The girl nodded numbly, staring at her hands wide-eyed and distant. Kaylee smiled, patted her shoulder, and headed to the back of the infirmary where supplies were kept.
Great, awkward moment. Rodney looked away, because he wasn't a people person, and children ranked high on the list of people he tried to avoid. But the look on her face had even his resilient heart strings going. He hadn't seen that kind of loss since...
Since Sheppard burst through the gate bloody and nuts the first time.
" Where's Mr. Sheppard?"
Rodney startled again, and looked back at the girl. She returned his gaze, scared, worried, but ever so slightly composed as her hands continuously wrung until they were white.
" Where did he go? Where is he? Will he be all right?"
And this is why kids ranked number one. Too many questions he couldn't answer.
" Um..." he stammered. " They're... just fixing him up. He'll – he'll be back. He always comes back. I mean, you think this is bad..." he chuckled ruefully, but fell short when the girl averted her gaze to the floor.
I suck at this! Rodney swallowed and cleared his throat. " Listen, I know Colonel Sheppard. And when I say he'll be back, I mean it. The guy's like a rubber ball – all over the place. First up, then down, then up again. Staying down's... not really his style. In fact, I've yet to hear his voodoo highness say that Sheppard's going to be okay and not have it come true. The man may seem to have a death wish, but death never seems too keen about taking him, know what I mean?"
The girl's brow furrowed in perplexity. Rodney shook his head.
" Know what? Never mind. Sheppard doesn't go down easy, let's just leave it at that. He'll be back out here in no time."
That seemed to do the trick. The girl's brow lifted, smoothing over, and Rodney couldn't help feeling a little smug about it.
Hey, I actually comforted a child. Go me. Then, sudden realization struck. He pointed at the girl with his unbound hand.
" Hey, you wouldn't happen to be Krissa, would you?"
The girl, once again perplexed, nodded.
Rodney perked. " Oh awesome. I have totally been wanting to talk to you about that sil of yours. Absolute genius. I'm Rodney, by the way..."
Now it was Krissa's turned to perk. " Mr. Sheppard's friend?"
" ... and that sil, huh? What? Friend? I guess..."
" He said you were his friend, and that I really needed to meet you."
Rodney blinked rapidly at that statement. " He-he did? Really?"
She nodded. " Yes, really. He said I would like you."
That hit with twice the force, sending Rodney's mind reeling. " Uh... oh... um... Why did he say that?"
Krissa shrugged. " I don't remember. I just remember him saying I'd like you. Oh, and that you know a lot about the Ancients' ring."
Rodney nearly leaped from the bed at this blessedly wondrous opening never once presented to him unless a crisis with the gate occurred. " Really!" he said in a voice several octaves too high.
Krissa allowed herself a small, shy, fleeting smile. " I've... done studies into ring design theories. The concept fascinates me."
When nurse Kaylee returned with the right sized scrubs, it was to an in depth discussion between grown man and little girl concerning wormhole physics and Stargate dynamics, and neither sounded ready to let up any time soon.
SGASGASGASGASGA
John awoke to a very disagreeable onslaught of discomfort. Pain pulsed through his body with focal points at the shoulder, about the ribs, and along his spine. He heard rhythmic beeping, and moans emanating from his own throat with each cresting wave of physical unpleasantness. He would have moved, but long experience had taught him just how bad an idea that always turned out to be.
" Do you need assistance, Mr. Sheppard?"
For a brief, heart beat of a moment, John forgot his own pain. It was a fight to get his eyes to open, but open they did, a crack at first to let in a sliver of light that stabbed his brain, then centimeters farther when his brain ceased its protests.
Bart's face loomed before him, and John was grateful he didn't have the energy to jump back in alarm. John tried to speak, but his voice caught in his dry throat. He coughed, cleared it, and tried again.
" Personal space..." he whispered.
Bart's ears perked. " Mr. Sheppard?"
" Personal space, Bart. You really need to... grasp that... concept." He coughed again. Talking was too much of a chore.
Bart reached out and lifted a plastic cup complete with bendy straw from a tray. " Liquid, Mr. Sheppard?" He held the cup and straw within reach, and John lifted his head in inch from the pillow to take the straw into his mouth. A few sips, and his throat felt ready to belt out the National Anthem. Actually, that would have been pushing it, but relief tended to exaggerate everything. When finished, Bart set the cup back on the tray.
" Are you in pain, Mr. Sheppard? Mr. Beckett was quite adamant on knowing when you awake, and if any pain was present."
John winced at another agonizing crest, so could only nod.
Bart frowned. " I will alert Mr. Beckett then." He turned, about to go.
" Wait," John croaked. " Hold up, not yet."
Bart turned back, cocking a bald eyebrow. " But you said..."
John winced again. " Yeah, I know, pain. Not a stranger to it. It's not going to kill me. Where's Krissa?"
Bart swiveled his head unnervingly around to the bed across from John where Krissa laid curled under a blanket. Somewhere in the infirmary, within the near-quiet, John heard the discernible clack of keys on a laptop.
Hazy memory crept its way back to him, and he closed his eyes, shuddering from more than just physical pain.
" Mr. Sheppard?"
He opened his eyes again. " She took the serum."
Bart nodded. " Yes. After returning to Master Diavante's..."
John lifted his head from the pillow, and the heart monitor stumbled in its rhythm when his heart stumbled in its beat. " She what?" He would have shouted, but energy still wasn't giving him the time of day. He couldn't even hold his head up any longer, so let it drop back to the pillow.
" Returned to Master Diavante's."
" Why? How?"
" How is simple. Her prototype sil. Why... I'm not precisely privy to the details. See seemed quite angry when she returned. Scared, yes, but mostly angry. She was not alone. She was with a cousin and several armed men. I believe they were hoping to be rid of Diavante, but seeing as he was not present, she requested the serum instead. She had me accompany them back in order to assist with the administration of it. She wished her cousin to be unaware of her plans. She questioned me on Diavante's where abouts, and when I told her of his plans concerning the retrieval of the sil and the death of you, she wasted little time in going to the planet where the auction takes place."
Bart's answers led only to more confusion. " You knew what Diavante had planned?"
Bart sniffed and shrugged. " I put it together from snatches of conversation, and glimpses of his schedule. It seemed there was to be no auction, only a contest that involved the eliminating of one John Sheppard. Actually it was all he could talk about during his return from hunting Krissa, gathering and preparing this 'contest'. You left quite an impression on him, Mr. Sheppard."
John groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and running a shaking hand through his hair. " Why the hell can't I ever leave a good impression? I'm a nice guy, I try not to piss people off. Why doesn't it work?"
Bart shrugged. " I do not know sir. Although it seems to me that those with a good quality nature tend to always make an enemy of those with a bad quality nature. Now may I call in Mr. Beckett? You are looking rather green."
John dropped his hand from his head and nodded. " Yeah, that might be a good idea."
Bart scurried off in a clack of claws, and John's view of Krissa was unobstructed. She was awake, eyes open and staring at him. He stared back.
" Hey there," he croaked.
Her lips twitched in an awkward smile. " Hi." She then slid from the covers off the bed. She was in scrubs, which made her seem more like a short nurse than a patient. She came over to John's bed with hands clasped in front of her, chewing her lip. After a moment of fidgeting silence, she pried her hands apart to place them on the metal rail.
" How are you feeling?" she asked.
John twitched from another spike of pain. " Like crap."
Krissa frowned, but John grinned.
" Wait until Beckett gets here. He's got stuff that'll have me feeling like a million bucks in no time."
" Huh?"
John shook his head. " Never mind. You'll see." They fell into more momentary silence, in which time John let his smile go. " Why'd you take the serum, Krissa?"
Krissa rested her chin on the rail and shrugged. Never had she seemed more like an every day twelve year old than she did right then, zoning out just a little for the inevitable reprimand.
" I don't know. I was tired, I guess... of being scared, and hunted, and hiding. Of losing people."
John furrowed his brow, but didn't say anything.
" I heard what Bart told you," she said. " I didn't go back for the serum. I went back to stop Diavante. That's why I brought others. The serum... I took the bottles because I thought about taking them, because Diavante wasn't there, and I got scared. But I wasn't sure... I was scared to take it. Then Bart told me where Diavante was and why. I don't know, I just got really mad. I didn't want you to die – like... Bren. I couldn't let it happen again. So I took the serum... a-and you know the rest."
John let out a shuddering sigh. " Yeah, I do, I was there. And let me tell you – for a genius, that wasn't too smart of you. Krissa, I told you, over and over... You're not supposed to protect me. I did what I did, all of it, to protect you. And if you had died, it would have been for nothing. You would have died, then I would have died, and it would have been for nothing."
Moisture pooled in Krissa's eyes, then spilled down her cheeks. She lifted her head to wipe her nose, and the struggle she waged trying to hold back from breaking down into sobs looked painful. Guilt stabbed John's heart and buried deep, but he couldn't apologize, because he was right.
" I know," she hiccuped. " I know it was stupid. But I didn't care. I didn't want you to die because of me, Mr. Sheppard. You're my friend. I didn't want to lose you like I lost Bren. I couldn't let it happen. Why do you have to die for me to live? Why are you less important? Why can't you be saved too? I don't care if it was dumb. I didn't want you to die."
She lost the struggle, jerking and twitching with sobs. John's throat tightened, and he struggled to lean to the side, rising enough on his own volition without the use of his unbound arm. He slid his arm around Krissa, careful of the IV, and pulled her into a light embrace to weep into his shoulder. She threw her arms around his neck.
John patted her back with one hand. " I'm not dead, Krissa. You did save me."
" I'm not dead either," Krissa replied. Simple, straightforward, but hitting John like a fist made of cinder block.
She was alive, right here, right now, safe in Atlantis, just as John had promised her. For a moment, John didn't acknowledge the pain practically screaming through his body. Warmth radiated from his chest, through his veins, until it was all he felt, and for the first time in a long time, he felt absolutely and undeniably content.
It felt good – right – to be alive.
" Ya tryin' to extend your stay, Colonel?"
John looked over Krissa's shoulder at Beckett, and smiled through the pain.
" Just doing what needs to be done," he said. He let his arm drop from Krissa. Krissa released him, and helped ease him back down onto the pillow. Carson came over with a syringe and injected the contents into the IV. Numbing bliss eventually followed.
Krissa wiped the last vestiges of moisture from her eyes, and exchanged the frown for a small smile. Beckett set about the busy work of checking lines, bandages, and stitches.
" How bad is it, doc?" John asked.
Carson smirked. " Very bad. You're already showin' signs of improvement, which means you'll be out of here days sooner than what's expected."
John chuckled despite the twinge in his chest. " No tormentin' the doc with escape attempts then?"
" Nope. And oh how I was lookin' forward to it," he said, eyes heavy-lidded and voice thick in the sarcasm. " If this improvement rate were a constant we wouldn't have to keep puttin' up the sign."
John's smile became wistful. " Colonel's in/Colonel's out?"
Carson looked up from his busy work in surprise. " Ya know of it, then?"
John nodded. " Yeah, know of it." He fell into thoughtful silence for a moment. " I don't think you'll ever be taking it down."
" Already plannin' future stays?"
John looked over at Krissa and winked. " No choice. I have no intentions of dieing – ever."
TBC...
SGASGASGASGASGA
A/N: Remember, one more chapter to go. Just one. Then the annual end of story party shall commence. I hear Sheppard actually trained Koyla to do tricks. Or maybe he's just being used as the pinata.
