Chapter six.
Thanks for the reviews, they really inspire me to keep writing! Thanks to my betas, Merlin and Kodiak for their advice and hard work. All mistakes are my own.
Returning to consciousness was an extremely painful experience for Sheppard. The first thing he was aware of was noise. The beeping of a heart monitor, the mumbling of distant voices. Next, he was aware of the smell of antiseptic, combined with that indefinable infirmary smell. Finally, he opened his eyes, blinking furiously to try and see past the fog that was in front of them.
Sheppard then tried to remember exactly what had landed him in the infirmary this time. He began to remember snatches of what had happened. He'd run off to find Ford, and had found his former friend. As he struggled to recall what'd happened, vivid flashes of memory assaulted his confused brain. What had happened between Ford and him? He cried out a denial as an image of Ford standing over him, snarling, came into his head. An ache hit him, deep in his stomach, as the realisation hit that Ford had left him to die.
Sheppard had realised the enzyme had altered his former lieutenant, but was shocked when he remembered the look of pure hatred on the man's face. Venom directed squarely at him. At that moment, the pain in his shoulder suddenly woke up again. Fiery talons ripped viciously into him, along with the fiercest throbbing he thought he'd ever felt. His head was aching horribly, and he realised he felt short of breath and nauseous. Trying to compensate by breathing more deeply, he whimpered when breathing only made the pain worse.
His head really started to pound now, as the jackhammer started up again. He felt confused, alone and terrified. Bile rose in his oesophagus, and being unable to move, he gagged and vomited down the front of his sheets, choking as he tried to clear the acrid liquid from his airway.
Suddenly hands were on him, turning him onto his right side, and he felt relief as he stopped choking. Unfortunately, the simple act of moving him left Sheppard groaning hoarsely in agony. As the dry heaves stopped, he felt a cool cloth on his face, and felt the tubing from his nasal canular removed, and an oxygen mask placed over his face. He shivered as his sheets were pulled away from him, soon to be replaced with crisp new ones.
A soft voice spoke to him soothingly. "Easy now. It's okay, son. Try and take slow breaths. Don't try to breathe too deeply, it'll hurt if you do. That's it." Sheppard recognised the voice, but couldn't quite put a name to it. The voice continued, "You're in the infirmary. You've been injured, but you're going to be fine. I know you're in a lot of pain, and I've given you something for that, just be patient for a few minutes while it does its job."
Sheppard opened his eyes again to see someone standing over him. He groaned as the Wraith queen's voice started to echo in his head again, demanding he kneel.
Weakly, he managed to whisper, "No, not again…I…I can't do this …anymore. Just…kill me…please."
Sheppard felt a wave of pain envelop him and cried out again as his body stiffened and the air was squeezed out of his lungs. He felt himself arch up, but instead of panic, he felt relief, believing that he was dying. He gave up fighting, and surrendered himself to his fate.
-oOo-
As Beckett looked down at his patient, he felt sadness grip him. Sheppard was asleep again, but had suffered a serious seizure. He'd explained to Elizabeth, Rodney and the others the implications of Sheppard's condition, and had sent Rodney off to work on translating more of the database. Although they now knew how to operate the device, there still were many unanswered questions about any potential side-effects, and Beckett wanted to know more about any previous victims and the outcome of their treatments. Having those answers could potentially help Sheppard, and Beckett knew he needed all the help he could get.
Time was running out for his patient, of that Beckett was certain. He knew that the seizure was due to the chemical's attack on Sheppard's brain, and a C.A.T. scan had revealed brain damage this time. Beckett hoped it was reversible, but knew the longer Sheppard waited for treatment, the less chance he had of making a full recovery.
McKay's arrival interrupted Beckett from his thoughts.
"Carson? How's he holding up?" the scientist asked.
Beckett grimaced. "Not too well, I'm afraid. The seizure left some damage in its wake," he began. "Tell me you've got some good news. I don't know how much more of this he can take, Rodney," Beckett sighed.
McKay looked soberly down at Sheppard, before answering Beckett with a frustrated edge to his voice. "There's still too much to translate. I've got my entire team working on it, but it's so complicated, Carson. Honestly, I think we're way out of our depth on this one."
Beckett looked at McKay in alarm.
"Rodney, I don't need to tell you how important this is. It really is a matter of life and death this time. I really need to know more before we go ahead and try the device on him." Beckett stated, his voice heavy with emotion.
"Do you think I don't know that?" McKay answered angrily. "If Sheppard were awake now, he'd be telling me to pull myself together and just get on with it," he laughed bitterly. "He'd then tell me to stop whining and when I'd pulled yet another rabbit out of my hat, he'd pat me on the shoulder, smiling that irritating smirk of his, telling me he'd never stopped believing for one second that I'd succeed. I want him awake now, saying those things to me. Why did this have to happen, it's not fair!" Rodney posed the question, but they both knew it was rhetorical. Why had any of this happened? Ford, Sumner, Gall, Dumais...
Beckett looked at McKay sternly, knowing what he needed to do to motivate the distressed man. "Rodney, go back to your lab and find out how to save him. You're the only one who can do it. Colonel Sheppard believes in you, I know he does, so just do it, and don't come back until you have good news."
Beckett then turned his back on McKay and walked away from him, not looking back.
McKay took a step back in reaction to Beckett's words, before straightening himself up a little, and striding purposefully out of the infirmary towards his lab.
-oOo-
The Wraith queen towered over her victim, shrieking in delight as she slowly drained the life from him. Sheppard cried out for Ford to move, to run away, as he sprayed bullets into the queen's back. But, Ford didn't move, he just screamed louder. Sheppard had no choice; he aimed for Ford's head and fired. He'd vowed never to do that again, after he'd been forced to kill Sumner, but his humanity demanded he take action. The marine collapsed to the floor, blood spraying in all directions as he fell backwards. As the queen hissed in annoyance, Sheppard fired endless rounds of bullets into her, until she fell to the floor, dead. He ran over to Ford, and shook his head in disbelief as the realisation of his actions sunk in. Without thinking, Sheppard pulled out his 9 mil, and put the gun to his temple, and pulled the trigger…
Sheppard woke up shouting, his head dripping with sweat, and though the pain was ever present, this time that wasn't the cause of his fear. Another dream. He hoped that's what it was, prayed that's what it was. It had been so real though, he'd actually felt the bullet hit his temple, and he'd really wanted to die. What the hell was happening to him?
Cautiously opening his eyes, he went to rub them with his hands, only to find himself unable to move them. He turned his head to the side of him, and immediately understood the reason why – restraints, he was in restraints.
Focusing his eyes on his surroundings, Sheppard realised he was alone, and once again fear hit him. Why was he in restraints, and why was he alone? He remembered something about a young man, Ford? Was that his name? He couldn't remember. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. He turned his head and noticed the thick bandage on his shoulder, and the IV lines in his arms, and tried to remember what had led to him being there. And where was he? Some sort of medical facility, he guessed, but was he a prisoner? Had he been injured while committing a crime? Sheppard wondered if he'd killed the man he kept seeing in his dreams, or had he killed the creature he saw in his head? Why was everything so fuzzy? He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired, and hoped everything would make sense when he woke up again.
-oOo-
The next twelve hours were spent with McKay frantically translating and analysing, and Beckett desperately trying to keep his patient reasonably comfortable. One had had some success; the other hadn't fared so well.
As McKay had managed to work out how to use the device, he had instructed Beckett in how to use it. Unfortunately, there was no way to test its effectiveness, so when Beckett used it on Sheppard it would be the first time it had been used in at least ten thousand years.
Beckett, in between learning about the artifact, had continued to care for his deteriorating patient. Sheppard had been slipping in and out of lucidity, and for an increasingly large part of his waking hours didn't know who anyone was. He appeared to be in horrific pain, and was suffering terrifying hallucinations, leaving him inconsolable at times. Beckett gathered they were to do with Ford, judging by Sheppard's tortured cries begging for Ford's life.
It was heartbreaking for the medical staff to witness Sheppard's decline. Beckett's two most experienced nurses twice had to wipe their eyes as their patient's plight temporarily overwhelmed them. Elizabeth had bravely continued to visit Sheppard, but Beckett witnessed the pain in her eyes at seeing her military commander reduced to a shadow of his former self.
Rodney had been conspicuous in his absence, though in all fairness, Beckett thought, McKay had been working tirelessly to research a cure for Sheppard. Beckett had briefed McKay about Sheppard's condition, but McKay had appeared to show little interest. Beckett thought it was probably a defence mechanism, and in all honestly didn't blame the scientist, he was doing all he could to help with Sheppard's predicament, while trying to get through it himself.
Beckett's musings were interrupted when McKay walked in to the infirmary.
"Carson, I've finally completed enough of the translation and analysis," McKay began. "I really think this will work. But – there's always a but, isn't there?" he observed, and smiled sadly, before continuing. "There is the serious possibility of a side-effect from using the device to heal the brain." He stopped and frowned, noticing Sheppard writhing in the bed a few feet away. McKay gulped as he realised Sheppard was now in restraints. Momentarily forgetting his previous train of thought, he looked at Beckett at snapped, "Are the restraints really necessary? Jesus, hasn't he gone through enough?"
Beckett cleared his throat. "I had no choice. None of the sedatives were working, and I can't risk giving him anything stronger than I already have. He was damaging his shoulder more by moving around so much, and when he tried to attack Melissa…" Beckett's voice suddenly cracked. Taking a moment to compose himself, he continued, "I have to consider the safety of my staff."
McKay nodded, feeling a little contrite for his outburst. "I'm sorry. I had no idea he was this bad." McKay nervously clenched his hands before continuing, "Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the side-effect. There's no easy way to say this. The device, in repairing the damage and neutralising the Wraith chemical, can permanently erase the memories of the victim. And just so we're clear, I'm talking about Sheppard being cured, but never knowing anything about himself or anything he's ever learned, at all – ever again."
Beckett exhaled. " Bloody hell! Any idea on the likelihood of that happening?" he asked.
McKay grimaced. "Of the three patients that were in a similar position to Sheppard and had the device used on them, one died, one made a complete recovery, and one had her memory totally wiped. So that means he has thirty-three point three percent recurring chance of making a complete recovery, that's based on the limited information available."
Beckett nodded. "Okay, those odds aren't the greatest, but they're not the worst either. Shall we get on with it then?" he asked McKay.
McKay nodded gravely. "I think now is as good a time as any. I think I'd rather see him die than suffer like he is now," he added.
"Aye, me too," Beckett answered.
The two men approached Sheppard's bed, and Beckett nodded to Shelly, his favourite nurse. McKay handed Beckett the artifact and the doctor stood by Sheppard's head and closed his eyes in concentration. A low humming sound came from the device, and a bright, blue light enveloped Sheppard's body. Sheppard reacted by tensing, his body lifting off the bed.
As suddenly as the blue light appeared, it faded away. Beckett wavered, before opening his eyes.
"Are you okay?" McKay asked worriedly.
Beckett nodded. "Aye. That felt strange, though," he answered.
Both men looked down at Sheppard. The man's features were as pale as they were a few minutes earlier, but instead of tense lines and contorted, tortured features, he just lay there sleeping, his slack face looking peaceful for the first time.
"He's not dead, is he? Because he looks dead," McKay nervously asked Beckett.
Beckett frowned at the scientist. "Rodney, the heart monitor is still beeping! Of course he's not dead. He's just in a very deep sleep. I'll get another C.T. scan in a minute, and that should tell us whether we've sorted the problem out or not," he told McKay. "How long did you say it was before the patients regained consciousness?"
McKay sighed. "Days. Though the patient who didn't survive died the instant the treatment was given. So the fact that he's still here's a good sign, right?"
"I'd guess so. Let me get that scan organised and we'll know soon enough." Beckett paused, frowning. "Though, it may be days before we know if there's any memory loss, permanent or otherwise."
McKay smiled grimly. At least he was alive. "I know."
-oOo-
McKay and Weir sat in Beckett's office as Beckett patiently explained the results of Sheppard's latest battery of tests.
"Right. The good news. I'll give that to you first, as we bloody well need some," Beckett complained. "The C.T. scan shows the brain damage has completely been reversed. All the areas of the colonel's brain that had been affected are now good as new. Better, in fact."
Weir smiled broadly. "That's excellent news. Well done – to both of you," she looked at Beckett, then McKay.
Beckett nodded, and then continued, "As far as I can tell, the chemical has been eradicated, so he should make a full physical recovery."
McKay fidgeted impatiently. "Yes, yes. I think we all understood that. What's the bad news?"
"The scans of his brain are worrying me. It's too perfect," Beckett said matter-of-factly.
Weir's smile faltered. "How can it be 'too perfect'?" she asked.
"And so what if it is?" McKay added incredulously. "He's going to get better and now he's got a perfect brain – though I seriously doubt it's as good as mine," he added, stifling an indignant snort.
Beckett ignored McKay's comment. "The best way I can describe it to you, is that his brain looks like one would that hasn't been exposed to anything we encounter in life. It shows no flaws or imperfections, things that were there before, and had nothing to do with the Wraith queen's attack." Beckett paused for thought. "What I'm saying is, we all age, and the colonel's brain looks as if it hasn't. It's as if the device restored it to perfection, only it wasn't perfect to start with, none of our brains are."
McKay drummed his fingers annoyingly on arm of his chair.
"So?" he asked in a less than tolerant voice.
Beckett sighed. "So, I'm very concerned that all that's left is a brand new organ, filled with no memories or learned experiences. Like wiping a dirty slate clean."
Weir and McKay suddenly understood Beckett's concerns and both their faces showed their distress at learning Beckett's fears.
Weir was the first to talk. "I see. So, you believe he has lost his memories?" Beckett nodded in affirmation. "Will he know how to talk, walk and perform basic functions?"
Beckett shrugged. "I don't know. Though the patient who survived with no memories was normal in every way, except she didn't remember who she was, where she was, and in fact never remembered anything from her former life." The doctor grimaced, then brightened a little. "Though she did integrate back into her society, and found happiness, I don't underestimate how difficult that must have been."
"I see," Weir answered blankly, appearing to take in the information, but not react to it.
McKay huffed. "Well, he's alive. If he doesn't remember, we'll just have to re-educate him, won't we?"
"It's not as simple as that, Rodney." Beckett kindly explained.
Weir's gaze wandered from the hands in her lap to Beckett's face.
"Why not?" she asked exasperated.
Beckett let out a deep breath. "Elizabeth, if what I fear is in fact what has happened, he won't know any of us. Yes, he'll learn to know us, and Atlantis, but he'll more than likely never remember anything. None of his military training, how to fly a 'jumper, how to shoot a gun. He won't be able to continue as military commander here, and the SGC will want him returned to Earth, where he'll have no friends; nobody to look out for him, care for him. Do you see what the problem could be?"
McKay and Weir both simply nodded, not having the strength to answer the doctor.
Beckett got up from his chair and smiled sadly at his two friends. "Look, I'm not meaning to upset either of you. I may be wrong – Christ, I hope I am!" he started. "But – I thought I should warn you of my concerns. He's still alive, and that's an awful lot better than the alternative."
McKay was just starting to open his mouth to say something, when one of Beckett's nurses burst into the room, hovering in the doorway.
"Doctor Beckett. Colonel Sheppard is waking up. I thought you'd want to know immediately," the nurse informed those in the room.
The three occupants of Beckett's office ran into the infirmary, past the nurse and stopped at Sheppard's bed.
The man in question was blinking rapidly, as if trying to focus his eyes. Beckett leaned down over his patient, and touched Sheppard's arm with his hand.
"Colonel Sheppard? How are you feeling, son?" he asked calmly.
Sheppard didn't answer at first, and just stared into space.
Beckett tried again. "Colonel Sheppard. Can you look at me?"
Sheppard's head slowly turned towards Beckett's voice.
"That's good, lad. How are you feeling?" he asked again.
This time Sheppard answered, though his voice was hoarse and faint.
"Where am I?" he whispered.
"You're in the infirmary on Atlantis. Do you remember what happened?" Beckett asked, concern showing on his face.
"Infirmary? Atlantis? I don't understand," Sheppard's weak voice sounded confused and alarmed.
Beckett continued to talk to his patient calmly. "Yes. You've been injured, but are recovering nicely. You're safe and we've been taking care of you. Do you remember what happened?"
"No. Who are you?" Sheppard asked quietly.
"I'm Doctor Carson Beckett, your friend. Do you not remember, lad?" Beckett gently questioned the colonel.
"No. I don't know you, and I don't know what's happened. Please tell me what's going on." Sheppard was starting to panic.
Beckett patted Sheppard's arm reassuringly. "I know it's a little confusing, but I'll try and explain everything shortly. Can you tell me your name?" he asked gently.
Sheppard thought for a few seconds, a puzzled expression crossing his handsome features. When the answer to Beckett's question became apparent to Sheppard, his eyes widened in fear.
"No, no. I can't remember. Why can't I remember my name? Why am I here? Who are you?" Sheppard was starting to become agitated now.
Weir stepped forward into the line of Sheppard's sight.
"John? Calm down. I know this is frightening for you, but we'll explain everything to you, I promise."
Sheppard studied the woman in front of him, before asking, "Do I know you? You called me 'John', is that my name?"
"Yes, you do know me, my name is Elizabeth Weir. Your name is John Sheppard. Does any of that sound familiar to you?" Weir patiently asked, dreading the answer.
Sheppard's breath hitched as he answered, "No. I don't remember you, and I don't know who I am. Why can't I remember anything?" he pleaded like a small, lost child.
Beckett,once again patted the colonel's arm. "Don't worry lad, we'll explain everything. There's no need to worry at the moment. You've been very ill and you need time to get your bearings, that's all. All right?"
Sheppard weakly nodded his head, as his friends looked at him, fear and regret in their eyes.
Tbc.
