Chapter 8: Lessons in Hope and Healing
John's POV
As I struggled against whatever blocked my throat, I felt my body convulsing, attempting to force it out. Vaguely, I heard shouts of alarm, machines screeching their own warnings, and hands on my body, restraining. Then- cool, sweet oxygen there for the taking. I drew in breath after breath, unable to get enough. Hands bracketed my face.
"He's hyperventilatin'! Give him- Aye, that'll do fine, thank you Bethany. As soon as we get him stabilized again, I want a full brain scan done. Somethin's changed here and I- Bloody hell!"
Hearing my friend's voice giving orders to the others around me, my eyes had seemed to slide open on their own. I was feeling slightly sleepy, and my head was pounding, but my breathing had begun to slow down as whatever they had given me took effect. Sliding my eyes to the left, I met the startled but motherly gaze of Bethany Kirran, still holding my IV line. Carson must have noted her diverted attention, because just after his loud exclamation, his familiar face appeared just above mine on the right. Hearing that dreaded click and seeing his hand start to come at my face holding something, I quickly allowed my eyes to close once more.
Oh, no you don't! Not this time!
Carson gave a snort of mixed annoyance and shock, while Bethany just laughed.
"Alright, lad, no penlight for now, but only if you open yer eyes for me again."
A pause. I was almost afraid to try. What if they wouldn't respond again? What if I were trapped like this for the rest of my life?
"Colonel, if you're really there, I need you to open yer eyes and look at me. You can do it. Please, John."
Yeah, I actually could. A surge of triumph and hope went through me as I blinked a few times against the brightly lit room. After my eyes had adjusted again, I sought out my favorite doc. There he was, and whiter than the infirmary linen! His eyes were as wide as the pocket watch on Elizabeth's desk, fear and hope warring for control of his expression.
"If you-" He stopped, swallowing hard. "If you can hear me, son, I want ya ta try noddin' your head."
Not asking for much, are you?
Firmly shoving down my own fear, I fought with my body for what seemed like an eternity. I could see the hope beginning to dim in Carson's eyes when, muscles screaming in protest, I managed one slight nod. A wide grin lit up the Scot's face just as I felt answering waves of child-like utter joy wash through me. It was only as a tear rolled down my cheek that I realized the emotions weren't entirely my own. Allie filled me, rejoicing, and a spike of pure-white pain drove through my head, sending more tears rolling unchecked down my face.
"Father! You're okay! You're really there, you didn't leave me!"
As wonderful as it was to have my little girl's voice ringing in my head, I just wasn't up to dealing with more pain right now. I could feel myself teetering on the edge of blacking out, and wasn't positive I could pull myself out of that dark pit another time.
Allie, love, you have to ease off!
A gasp. "Oh, I'm sorry!"
With remarkable control, the girl eased back out of my mind until I only perceived her at the very edges of my awareness, a reassuring, loving presence. The emotional wave receded, as did at least some of the pain, allowing me to reaffirm my hold on consciousness. Upon reopening my eyes, however, it appeared that everyone had deserted me. Off to my right, I heard the scrape of a chair, then a Scottish protest.
"I'm fine! I need ta see to the colonel!"
"Like hell you are. Stay there."
Bethany reappeared on my right, where Carson had been. Giving me a brief smile, she focused her attention on something above me, out of my line of sight.
"Hmmm... Looks like a certain little girl realized you were with us again. The jump in activity registered on the scan I just ran. Are you in any pain?
I forced another nod, not about to put up a brave front at the moment.
"Your head?"
Another nod. The lights in the infirmary immediately dimmed to a less painful level.
"Thank you, Allie-girl. I'm sure John would thank you as well if he could right now. Any pain anywhere else?"
A slight head-shake, neck muscles objecting and all manner of wires, tubes, and attachments pulling.
"All right, young man, let me check a few other things, but you're doing remarkably well. I suspect that the pain in your head is from the nasty electrical jolt you took. I'll see about getting you something for that in just a few minutes, so bare with me a bit longer. Achmed, Karolyn, I need you to help me roll him so I can take-"
A second scrape of the chair had the petite doctor whirling around.
"Carson! I told you to stay sitting down! You've barely eaten or slept for five days now, and it won't help anyone, least of all John, if you faint! Don't think I won't sedate you if I have to! I did it to Janet Frasier when she tried to work herself into the ground once! Achmed, kindly get our stubborn CMO some soup from the mess hall, then make up a cot in here. If Carson doesn't use it, I've no doubt Dr. McKay or Dr. Weir will !"
I'd have laughed if I could. I had liked Dr. Bethany Kirran from the day she'd stepped from the Daedalus in mid-rant at a chagrined looking Colonel Caldwell, who hadn't believed a crewman when she said she was sick. She was the saintly grandmother to everyone- until she caught you being stupid, then you were dead meat. Woe be it to anyone who got injured through their own negligence only to be unlucky enough to arrive at the infirmary to find Bethany on duty instead of Carson or Dr. Biro!
"As for you, John Sheppard..."
Uh oh!
By the time Bethany was done with me, I thought I had been poked and prodded to death, and wanted to sleep for another week, but my optimism about getting out of this in one moving piece had risen considerably. My arms and legs had proved that they would actually move when I told them to, albeit sluggishly with no fine motor control. I continued to breath on my own as well, even though I had been taken from the ventilator suddenly rather then weaned slowly off as the doctors preferred. My brain scans were also showing healthy brain activity where only a few hours before there had been nothing. I heard the word 'miracle' uttered more than once. All in all, I could live with it.
Just as Bethany was summing up and ordering the promised pain meds, Carson reappeared, looking much more like himself. He gripped my hand, leaning over me almost hesitantly until I shifted my eyes to meet his and his grin returned.
"I had ta check fer myself that I hadna been dreamin', lad. Welcome back, an' would ya kindly stop scarin' the daylights outta me!"
Unable to talk due to an intensely sore throat, I mouthed 'sorry' at him under the oxygen mask.
"That's alright, John, just so long as yer with us. Now, there's four people in my waitin' room who are a mite bit upset. I'd like ta let them see ya for a minute before we leave ya to yer rest. Not ta mention before that walkin' mountain out there decides to make a new door! We thought-"
Closing my eyes, I summoned up the energy for one last nod. I knew what they thought and it was the last thing I wanted to dwell on right now.
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Rodney's POV
I was terrified, which translated itself into sarcasm and general snarkiness. Not too pleasant for those around me, not that I really cared. The wait had been too long, a little over an hour already, leaving me to wonder if Carson really had taken up ancient rituals. I mean, come on, how long did it really take to tell that the end had come? The breathing and heart stopped, and that was that. It didn't take a medical degree from a crackerjack box to figure that one out.
"Will you stop! You're going to put someone's eye out!" I snapped, meeting Ronon's gaze head on, pointing to the knife the large man was restlessly flipping around. Dark eyes met mine with a clear 'you and what army are going to try?' look.
"Rodney." Elizabeth chided tiredly.
"What! I for one do not want to be blinded-"
A huge grin inexplicably split my face as a heady joy filled me, leaving me giddy.
"Rodney? Are you ill?" Teyla was at my elbow, guiding me back down into a chair.
"I don't really know, I just...can't help it."
Am I going insane? Why am I grinning like a lunatic when my best friend's in the other room dying!
Before I could ponder this phenomenon further, Carson rounded the corner wearing an identical expression.
"Carson?" Elizabeth questioned hesitantly, apparently trying to decide if the medical and science heads needed another doctor.
"Come with me, all o' ya! It's a bloody miracle!"
O-kay. 'Miracle' wasn't a word I was used to hearing associated with death. Not to mention being very unscientific. With a puzzled shrug, we followed him back to the familiar small isolation/ICU room where John's body lay. The first thing I noticed upon entering was the ventilator, sitting silently abandoned to the side. John was breathing on his own! Studying the nearby heart monitor, my own in my throat, I noted that the beat displayed was stronger and steadier then it had been since he was brought here.
What the hell is going on? Do I dare to hope?
Slowly, I approached to still form on the bed. Somehow, with a gut-felt certainty, I knew what I'd find there. Reaching out, I gently tapped the side of John's face as I'd felt Carson do to me on occasion.
"Rodney..." The sadly whispered protest came from the expedition leader directly behind me, and had me instantly shaking my head.
"Wait!" I firmly told them before once again tapping the unresponsive man. I noted, however, that Carson was standing next to me, just grinning at my actions.
"Wakey, wakey, Colonel Slug-a-bed. You're beginning to annoy me, and you know when I get annoyed, I get loud!"
"Not ta mention cheeky, arrogant, obnoxious- Oof!"
A well-placed elbow to Carson's ribs cut off the mutter just as John stirred. Slowly, twin hazel orbs appeared, blinking sleepily at me. Then recognition lit them up and he slowly nodded at me before once again settling back into a deep, healing sleep.
A child's voice sounded in my head. "He said to tell you that if you got loud right now, you'd be walking to the next planet."
TBC... Just one more to go! Now, how fast can I type? Or, more importantly, how fast do you want me to type? Review, please.
