Chapter 9: Graduation March

Rodney's POV

Four days later, I leaned against the doorway to the medical unit's balcony, watching the man covered in blankets ensconced in a reclining chair. He actually looked pretty good, with a lot more color to his face as he laughed at something Allie had written on his laptop. Cautiously, I flexed my own healing hand, marveling at the regenerative powers of the human body. John's recovery had them all scratching their heads, both here and at the SGC according to Carson. Everything in the records leading up to his sudden awakening said the man shouldn't be laying there. The power that went through his mind should have deep fried his brain in its own juices. They were still calling it a medical miracle, whatever the hell that meant. Carson, Allie, and I had our own theories, though we weren't sharing all of them. Mostly because they probably wouldn't believe us.

We thought that because the power surge had gone through Allie into John, that perhaps she had been able to shield him from the worst of it somehow. Instead of frying his brain, the surge merely scrambled it, almost like a radio with its channel signals temporarily scrambled. Everything was still there, but someone using the radio would only find static on their normal channels, leading them to think it was broken. Only the brain stem, isolated and protected, had survived with minimal damage, allowing basic functions to keep him alive. That, however, had fooled all the equipment into reading him as brain dead. Then, like a computer trying to reboot itself, his brain slowly re-established working connections as the pathways finally healed. This, the medical staff accepted, if only for want of any other explanation. It was the next part that could have them measuring us for straitjackets.

Both Carson and I had been unusually hesitant to face what should have been an obvious choice in light of the medical scans. John was brain dead, and we knew him well enough to know what his wishes would be in such a situation. Yet neither of us had been willing to have that step taken, waiting almost as if for some unknown sign. Coupled with what Allie had told me of thinking she heard John call out to her several times, and... Well, we thought perhaps John had been able to let Allie know on some level that he was still there, and she in turn unknowingly influenced the two of us. Other then Major Lorne, who had gone off-world soon after Sheppard was found, Carson and I possessed the strongest ATA genes on Atlantis outside of Sheppard, artificial or natural. Allie had connected with us on the same level that she used to keep tabs on Sheppard. It would certainly explain Carson and I both feeling the little girl's joy when John woke up.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Knowing that a child could influence my mind without me even realizing it was a little unnerving. Allie, though, had immediately promised never to do so unless in dire circumstances, and for once I was willing to accept that. After all, Sheppard was the one teaching her ethics and nobody in their right mind would question his word. I was beginning to like the twerp, even, despite her being a child- sort of. Repairs had certainly gone smoother once we both stopped assuming the other was a complete idiot and constructively argued. Now, Atlantis was fully up and running- except for her military commander.

I didn't think it would be all that long before he was back in full fighting mode, too. After all, he had a lot of motivation to be in tip top form, able to defend the city and all her inhabitants, including a little girl whom I noted calling him 'Father' more and more. Greater control of his body had been gradually returning, and Carson expected him to be at 100 within another few days. With typical John Sheppard style, the colonel seemed to be shrugging off the ordeal, acting more concerned about the guilt the rest of us were feeling about what had almost happened. Not that any of us had actually told him we were about to kill him. No, we just acted like a bunch of six-year-olds who'd raided the cookie jar. Case in point, Carson was letting the man wear sweats and a long-sleeved shirt instead of scrubs. In turn, though, I hadn't heard John complain even once about the restrictions he was under or the seemingly endless tests Carson and the others wanted to run. The pilot was suddenly the model patient, not even pulling any pranks on the nurses like he normally would have as he felt better and got bored.

I had my own ideas about the causes of that, though John insisted it was simply because he was still too tired. I had watched, this morning, as he woke from a nightmare, muttering about 'giving up' and 'plugs' until he noticed me watching and clammed up tight. I was afraid that he had heard and remembered a lot more then he was admitting to, and it was affecting him, no matter how often he said he was 'fine'. He would be telling me the truth this morning, whether he liked it or not, or I'd have Beckett haul him to Heightmeyer by his spiky hair. I had put too much time and effort into his scrawny butt to sit here and watch him crack.

"Are you planning on continuing to stand there staring, or would you like to come and sit down, Rodney?"

John spoke in a gravelly whisper, throat still sore from the breathing tube, not to mention the abrupt way it had been yanked out. Again, typical Sheppard, never doing things the easy way.

"I was contemplating the unfairness of you being allowed to wear your own clothes when Carson always insists on sticking me in one of those dumb, way-too-ventilated gowns. The man who invented the things must have been stupider than my assistants."

Ah! At least I got a laugh!

"Be careful. Elizabeth told me if you made any more of them cry she was going to turn the science department over to Dr. Z for a week!"

Sinking down into the chair next to him, I gave John my best 'over my mangled body' glare.

"Speaking of people in trouble, Colonel Clam, Carson knows you're hiding something and is about this close," holding thumb and forefinger about half an inch apart, "to insisting you be hauled off to Kate, whom I heard you chased outta here yesterday. I talked him into giving me a chance to get you talking first, but..."

Nobody ever accused me of not being willing to lie when I think its necessary!

John winced. "I'm not hiding anything."

Yeah, and my IQ's lower then 100!

I rolled my eyes. "That was transparent even for you. Spill. I've got better things to do then pry things out of reckless fly boys."

"McKay..."

"Sheppard..."

His hands began to fidget, twisting in his lap, while his gaze lighted on anything but me.

"Rodney... Near as I can figure out, my hearing came back about the second day in the infirmary. Though I drifted in and out a lot."

Okay, what does that have to- Oh shit.

Talk about a sucker punch! I stared at him, horrified, as my memory kicked in, supplying me with the details of what had been discussed well within his hearing that day. Even heavily medicated at the time, I sure wasn't ever going to forget that awful conversation. How much worse must it have been to lay there, knowing we were talking about him, but unable to let us know he was really alive? I'd have lost it right then and there.

"You heard us talking about-" I couldn't say it.

Hazel eyes came up, sad, haunted. "Yeah. Nobody else gets told, Rodney, especially not Carson or Elizabeth. They feel bad enough as it is. I'm tired of all of them acting so weird around me, and this would just make it worse. I'm dealing with it, I'm good."

He tried to give me the old Sheppard crooked grin, but it didn't quite come off. Yeah, he was 'good' all right. Unfortunately, the man could read me like a book.

"Nobody has to tiptoe around, I don't really blame any of you. Carson thinks I'll make a full recovery. Even the headaches are starting to fade, and I walked out here with only Ronon's arm to steady me. Besides, I'm safe, on Atlantis, surrounded by friends... You're not the only one whose learned a lot of lessons here, though personally I always thought those posters were kinda cool."

I gave my friend my best innocent look.

"Well, of course they are. What moron could possibly have said they weren't?"

I had to duck fast to avoid the pillow that came flying my way, charitably picking it up and handing it back instead of throwing. Just this once, because the man was still ill, and I was just grateful he was here at all.

After all, what are friends for?

The End.

A/N Thank you all for the encouragement you've given! I'm so glad you enjoy these stories!