Disclaimer: I don't own SGA…which is good because it would take me forever to come up with a good storyline.
A/N: I apologize for the lengthy delay...especially to those who've been patiently waiting:
Major Surfing – Part 2
Despair threatened to overwhelm John at that point; the belief that he would be stuck the way he was for a week or more was terrifying nonetheless. Even though he was and would be surrounded by friends and companions there was nothing he hated more than being useless. If he could at least talk to people or make some kind of movement to alert them to his condition he might have a chance.
"Carson, are you sure there is nothing more you can do for him?" The Scott shook his head.
"I'm doing the only thing I can – and that's prescribing him anti-venom and painkillers. Trust me, I'd love to do something more, but the venom is weakening his body's immune system, however slight it may seem." Carson ran a hand through his hair, looking tired and a little agitated. "I hate to say this, but…"
"But you need me to leave so you can concentrate on making John better." Dr Weir's face once more reappeared over John's as she smiled down at him. "Get better soon, John…if you don't, there may not be surfing in your future."
As if that was the last thing he needed to be told, he was acutely aware that paralyzed persons were unable to surfboard. Talk about a nightmare…speaking of which, he wondered what it was that had pulled him down into the depths of the ocean.
One minute he had been calmly surfing, enjoying the spectacular view, and the next, he'd slipped and felt something tighten around his ankle. That was before Teyla and Aiden had seized him and dragged him up to the surface, where they had inadvertently exposed his legs to the monstrous jellyfish he had had the pleasure of seeing. He had also been half-drowned thanks to whatever had pulled him down.
He closed his eyes – about the only thing he could do right now – and decided to get some rest. His eyes hurt from staring up at the lights and a subconscious thought resounded that the nurses should decorate the ceiling. Tiles were only so much fun to count after so many times.
Carson glanced over at John periodically to see how his immobilized patient was doing. It was only a distant thought that seemed to note how much more relaxed he was, than when John was trying his escapes. His latest escapade had earned him a few jokes about how he ever made it home from a mission. However, when Dr Weir had heard of this, she had immediately ceased the jokes with firm disciplinary action if required. Needless to say, everyone had quit joking about that particular topic.
"So, major, how are we feeling now? Any pain? Nausea? Discomfort?" Carson paused after each question, trying to gauge the emotions reflected in Sheppard's eyes. He hadn't realized all that the major hid until the man was rendered immobile. "You've gotten yourself into a bit of a bind, lad, that's all I can say." Carson spoke as he gave the major more painkillers.
John had lain there quietly, working out how to move each digit despite the temporary paralysis. He wasn't going to subject himself to the blood tests that Carson would subject him to.
"Uh, major?" This voice was different, and Rodney's face quickly appeared over John. "I've found a bit of good news just a few moments ago." The astrophysicist paused, then seeming to remember that the major couldn't speak, continued. "Anyway, the Ancients haven't documented anything about the water in particular, but they do reference it a little in their notes. It's quite interesting really, because it seems that-" A perturbed look from John set the physicist straight.
"Right, um, anyway, the Ancients had their own way of dealing with water supply – hence the ocean – and they did reference the water. The creatures, according to the documents we've translated, on land were nothing to be feared. The ones that live in the middle of the continent are, of course, more voracious than say the more docile creatures along the coast. Anyway, the water was said to contain creatures that no one had seen for thousands of years. One of the Ancients tried to copy a picture of sorts into the program of Atlantis, and here it is."
A rolled sheet of paper appeared in Rodney's hand, and John smiled – or would have had he not been stung by the huge jellyfish. Rodney paused for a moment, then began to unroll it. On the paper, was…John had to contain the urge to scream for a mental scream. It was none other than a giant jellyfish! Duh, he had already known that.
"Don't roll you're eyes at me, mister immobile surfer dude, I'm the one who saved your scrawny butt. Anyway, that's just one of the creatures. The other one," and here Rodney turned the paper over, caused John to scream mentally – again. This one was nothing like a jellyfish, but instead seemed more like a type of sting ray. "It is a type of sea-dweller that has large tentacles that protrude from its tail. Apparently, if the picture is correct, the two tentacles latch around an object or its prey, and bring it to its mouth to feed. Apparently, due to the abrasions and contusions on your ankle, this thing…tried to eat you."
Here, Rodney smirked. "Guess it didn't like that Ancient flavor of no deodorant."
The glare John sent Rodney was enough to make the scientist take a step back. But then realizing John's predicament, at the same time John realized it, the grin had come back. This time it looked more menacing than happy.
"Ooh, think of all the tricks and pranks I could pull, major. And you'd be helpless to make it stop…or not." The glare had gotten blacker, if that was possible, and Rodney decided it was safer to leave. But not before he tacked up the picture of the creature above John's bed. "For decorative purposes only," he had assured the nervous major.
Needless to say, John wasn't exactly thrilled. When he had thought of decorating the ceiling tiles, he hadn't exactly been thinking of posting up a picture of whatever it was that had almost eaten him. Sharks were bad enough, but meat-eating stingrays weren't reassuring either.
He closed his eyes, battling the demons that threatened to overwhelm him with doubt and what-ifs. There was nothing more for him to do, short of sleeping, and he didn't feel like looking up at the poster any more than he had to. All he wanted to do was get out of the infirmary and back onto his feet.
A/N: You all can thank AbeoUmbra for bringing this fanfic back to mind – even though it was just a matter of editing. Guess there might be one last part? I'm not exactly sure where this is going, so maybe it should just be a one-shot. Give me your ideas, and I'll try to cater. Escargot, anyone?