Okay.. we're nearly done:)
Honest, I wasn't lying this time about this being the last chapter – it is the last chapter. But there's gonna be an epilogue! Heee heee. One last bit for you to enjoy.
Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review this fic – please let me know your thoughts on the finale and I'll get the epilogue posted as soon as I can!
Dr Rodney McKay couldn't sleep.
Maybe it was the uncomfortable chair he was slumped in – he was sure Carson had deliberately picked out the hardest, most uncomfortable chairs for use in the infirmary so as to discourage lingerers. Or maybe he was over-tired – he known that happen before when he was wrapped up in a project and worked himself into the ground on it, ending up so exhausted that he came right through tiredness and out the other side, finding himself unable to sleep even though he wanted to. Or maybe it was simply restlessness – sometimes he just couldn't seem to get his brain to shut down, it just kept going over and over things endlessly, gnawing away at an issue.
Rodney swallowed, pushing down determinedly on the lump that was forming in his throat.
Or maybe it was the fact that his friend was lying still and pale in the hospital bed next to him, hanging on to life by his fingernails. Yeah. Maybe that was it.
He hadn't had more than a snatched hour or two of sleep since coming back from that awful, damned planet and, since Sheppard had come out of surgery, he'd hung around the infirmary so much that Carson had threatened to either throw him out or sedate him and put him in an infirmary bed himself.
Rodney had eventually resorted to a show of force, figuring safety in numbers and all that, and guessing that Beckett couldn't threaten to sedate or bounce he, Teyla and Ronon. He glanced over at his team members; they didn't seem to share his difficulty in sleeping. Teyla somehow managed to make the infirmary chair look comfortable, her small frame curled up, legs tucked beneath her as she slept. Ronon, conversely, seemed to take up more space than should strictly be necessary, even for someone of his size. He was slouched in his chair, his shoulders resting on the back of the chair and the long length of his body stretched out, his legs taking up most of the limited floor space beside the infirmary bed. The Satedan's head was tipped backwards, dreadlocks dangling, and now and then he snored softly.
Rodney sighed, glancing at his watch. It's was 1:14am. Another long, sleepless night stretched out ahead of him.
The problem was, he couldn't stop remembering. He kept seeing the same images over and over in his head, going around and around in circles. The infirmary bed shaking and rattling as Sheppard seized helplessly; the pale, waxy hue to the Colonel's skin as he drifted in and out of feverish delerium; the sight of Carson cutting away Sheppard's pants leg on the floor of the jumper, revealing skin stained red with rivulets of blood; the grimace of pain on Sheppard's face as he looked up at him from the forest floor and ordered him to leave, to head for the gate; watching Sheppard scream as Ronon pried the dead predator's jaws from his leg and, worst of all, the image that awoke him every time he slipped into an exhausted sleep; the memory of something leaping at him from the bushes, of Sheppard's shout and a sudden unexpected blow from behind. The knowledge that, once again, Colonel Sheppard had risked his own life to save Rodney's.
It was his fault that Sheppard lay here in the infirmary, clinging to life by virtue, it seemed, of sheer stubbornness alone.
He knew that the others didn't see it that way, had tried to talk him round and tell him how it wasn't his fault, knew even that Sheppard himself – assuming he even survived – would not blame him, even as the Colonel hadn't thought twice about throwing himself in that thing's way in the forest. But McKay was a scientist; he dealt in logic - cold, hard facts. And the fact was that if it weren't for him Sheppard wouldn't be in this fix right now.
He'd felt bad enough seeing the mess Sheppard had been in when they'd finally rescued him and Ronon from the jungle planet but, after the surgery, Carson had been cautiously optimistic, pleased that they'd repaired the worst of the damage and quietly confident that the Colonel shouldn't suffer any long-lasting effects from his misadventure. Then Sheppard's fever had worsened. His temperature had risen.. and risen.. and risen. And Carson and all his voodoo had been helpless to stop it, unable to fight the infection, until finally Rodney had found himself standing frozen at the foot of the bed, watching in horror as Sheppard convulsed helplessly, Dr Beckett struggling to hold him down, shouting orders at the nurse. Although it had been mere moments, probably only seconds in fact, before the injection of Ativan had relaxed Sheppard's muscles, slowing and eventually stilling his jerky motions, it had felt like forever to Rodney.
And now, hours later, Sheppard lay there so still, so quiet. Rodney almost missed the convulsions, the restless, feverish movements. At least they had indicated that Sheppard was alive, that his body was trying to fight this thing. McKay was beginning to be afraid that Sheppard had given up.
McKay leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the still form of his friend. Sheppard looked… almost peaceful. His fever had finally broken just a couple of hours ago and the high, unnatural flush across his cheekbones had begun to fade, leaving his face as deathly pale as the rest of him. His temperature, according to Carson, was still higher than normal but no longer dangerously so. He looked as though he were simply asleep, his lashes a dark smudge against his cheeks, his breathing deep and even. The only question now was, would he wake up?
Privately, Rodney would admit to himself that Beckett was a good doctor. Okay, probably a great doctor. But he was no miracle worker and the Scot had been regretfully realistic about the Colonel's chances. The seizure had been a bad thing. Hell, Rodney knew enough about medicine to know that, even without having seen the full, shocking horror of it first-hand. It meant that the Colonel's brain had over-heated, the fever and infection wreaking havoc throughout his body. There was simply no way to know what, if any, damage the seizure had caused. Not until the Colonel woke up. If he woke up. Yet again, they were left to play the waiting game.
Rodney couldn't prevent another sigh escaping him. He was exhausted, utterly drained of energy. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes, feeling a yawn pull at his jaw. His eyes ached; they felt gritty and dry. He sat in his uncomfortable chair and watched Sheppard sleep. The Colonel's rebellious shock of dark hair was even more of a mess than usual, lying flat in some places and sticking up in others, stiff with the sweat of his raging fever. Once his high temperature had finally dropped the nurses had washed the sweat from his skin and dressed him in a hospital gown. A ghost of a smile twitched at McKay's lips as he thought, "Sheppard's gonna love that when he wakes up.."
And then his face fell, that lump rising in his throat again as reality hit him hard.
"If he wakes up," McKay thought.
"Please wake up," he whispered.
His first awareness was of sound; a low, repeated rumbling sound. It sounded close. The noise nagged at him, hovering on the edge of his consciousness, just loud enough to distract him, to prevent him from slipping back into the comforting darkness. Sensation came back slowly; he felt heavy and.. somehow weak. His muscles felt achy and tired, like after a really long, hard run. He stirred restlessly and sharp pain flared in his leg, drawing a gasp from his lips.
Another sound. A voice. "Sheppard?"
He breathed slowly, carefully, letting the pain ebb and fade. His head felt incredibly heavy. He wanted to sleep. He wanted the darkness back..
"Sheppard? Can you hear me?"
Familiar voice. He knew that voice.
"Colonel Sheppard?"
The voice sounded… worried? No, not worried. Scared.
It was so tempting to just wrap himself up in the darkness, let it carry him away where there was no pain and nothing to be scared about.
No. He couldn't do that. He knew that voice.. and he couldn't let the darkness take him while the fear trembled in that familiar voice. He swallowed thickly, his mouth feeling dry and sticky.
"Carson! I think he's waking up!"
Nnngh. He grimaced. Loud. Too loud.
Awareness of his surroundings filtered in slowly as he drifted in the darkness, trying to focus his wandering thoughts in a head that felt about three sizes too big. There was an odd smell in the air, an antiseptic, sterile smell and he dredged up the word "infirmary" from somewhere in his memory. The word seemed comforting somehow.. made him feel.. safe. He became aware of a presence nearby, someone leaning over him, and another voice spoke.
"Colonel Sheppard? Can you hear me, son?"
He knew that voice, familiar yet odd.. the words rising and falling almost musically.
"Can you open your eyes for me, Colonel?"
He was so tired. He felt utterly exhausted, drained of energy. He tried to open his eyes, really tried, and thought he felt his lids tremble for a minute.
"Oh god, I knew it. He's a vegetable!"
"Rodney!" The chiding tone in the voice was clear and suddenly he could put a name to those lilting tones. Carson. A musical, lilting name to match the voice.
"Give him time, he's been through a lot.."
Been through a lot? Been through what? He tried to ask but no sound came out, his throat working spasmodically. The darkness was slipping away from him now as he struggled for comprehension.
Names. Memories. Carson. Rodney. Ronon… Ronon.. for a moment he could hear again the low, rumbling, growling sound from nearby and panic flooded through him, adrenalin spiking, and his eyes flew open.
"Colonel Sheppard?"
Faces. Faces looming over him. He felt trapped, panicked, his breath stuttering in his throat.
"It's alright, Colonel. You're in the infirmary, you're safe now.."
He turned his head, aching muscles protesting, and tried to see past the faces, tried to make sense of his surroundings. His chest began to burn, his lungs unable to pull in enough air.
"Carson! He doesn't recognise us!"
There was despair in that voice now, along with fear, and that more than anything pulled John back to himself, focused his mind.
"Hush, Rodney!" Carson's voice was sharp now, a tone that brooked no disagreement.
"Colonel, I need to you to calm down." Gentle again now, calm and reassuring, hands firm on his shoulders. "That's it, just breathe now. You're safe on Atlantis. Everybody's safe.."
Atlantis. He focused on Carson's kindly, blue eyes as he felt the panic ease. He was on Atlantis. They were safe on Atlantis.. a vague memory surfaced of impossibly bright blue skies and the hum of a descending jumper. He grimaced, screwing his eyes shut as he tried to chase the elusive memory down. Ronon.. Ronon standing over him.. shooting.. shooting at.. Ngh. Jungle. Jungle planet. Teeth. Predators. He was overwhelmed by a flood of memories, unravelling backwards to the sudden stillness of the jungle and the knowledge that Rodney was in danger.
Rodney!
His eyes flew open to find that familiar face looming over him with naked fear in those blue eyes. He swallowed, tried to speak, but nothing came out.
"Here, Colonel.." Carson's voice and then something deliciously cold and wet slid between his lips. Ice chip. He sucked, savouring the cool taste of liquid running down his throat.
"Rodney," his voice was nothing more than a hoarse croak but the effect it had was astounding. McKay's face cleared, relief etched on every feature as he visibly sagged.
"Oh god, Colonel. Don't do that to me! I thought you'd swiss-cheesed your brain for good this time!"
"Rodney!" The expected reproof came not from Beckett this time but from Teyla, her reproving frown clearing into a welcoming smile as she turned her gaze to Sheppard, stepping up to stand next to Carson. "It is good to see you back with us, Colonel."
He answered with a woozy smile of his own; the surge of adrenalin had passed, leaving him even more tired than before. He hadn't actually thought that was possible.
"How are you feeling, Colonel?" Carson was digging in his lab-coat pocket and Sheppard had the distinct feeling that a penlight would be heading in his direction very shortly.
"Where's Ronon?" he rasped, not so subtly ignoring Carson's enquiry.
"Here." The Satedan rose into view as he unfolded himself slowly from his chair, stepping forward to loom over the bed.
Sheppard's eyelids were beginning to droop and it was all he could do to focus on the tall ex-Runner.
He gave Ronon a tired grin. "I owe you one." Ronon simply nodded, the merest hint of a smile on his usually serious face.
Sheppard was feeling drowsy enough that he didn't object when Carson pried open his eyelids and did his penlight thing. As he owlishly blinked away the bright after-image he was aware of the four of them hovering around his bed, a palpable sense of relief in the air. It occurred to him to wonder how long he'd been in the infirmary, and why they seemed so worried, but talking required energy and he was fresh out. His eyes slid closed.
"Is he okay?" There was still that undercurrent of panic in McKay's voice.
"He'll be fine. He's just exhausted, the fever was very hard on his body."
Fever?
He had a vague memory of feeling cold, very cold. Don't fevers make you hot?
"How long's he gonna sleep for?" Ronon's deep, rumbling voice.
He remembered feeling the vibration of the Satedan's voice through his chest as he swung upside down, his fingers trailing in the cool water of the river, the shrill screams of the predators echoing in the hot jungle air.
Hunh. With an effort he forced his eyes open. They were standing around the bed still, talking across him, talking about him.
"Growling.."
They turned to look at him, varying expressions of bemusement on their faces.
"Excuse me?" McKay's tone clearly said he thought Sheppard had lost it.
"Something woke me up. Growling." He was too tired to explain properly. "Animals. Growling…"
He saw comprehension dawn on McKay's face before drowsiness weighted his eyelids. His head felt heavy.
"No growling here, Colonel," there was an odd tremor to McKay's voice, mixed with a gentleness that was unusual for the scientist. "The predators are gone and we're all safe on Atlantis. You can sleep as long as you want."
Sheppard smiled sleepily at that, letting the warm darkness wrap around him, knowing his friends would be waiting when he awoke again.
"What did he mean by growling? Was he dreaming?"
There was a hint of the old familiar McKay in the sharpness of Rodney's tone and Sheppard drifted off to sleep with a smile on his lips, McKay's words following him down into darkness.
"Ronon, you snore!"
Almost done….
