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Sheppard awoke from his restless sleep to find Mckay sitting on the stool next to his bed and staring at him. He jolted upright and cradled his injured hand to his chest.
"Are you trying to scare me to death?" He breathed in sharply.
Mckay opened his laptop and looked down at it intently, "Yes, that's exactly what I intended to do." He sighed.
"I object to you leering over me while I sleep," Sheppard moaned.
"I wasn't leering."
"Staring then," Sheppard clarified for him. He sat up in the bed and pulled the covers over his shivering body. His eyes were drawn over to the cabinet he had destroyed and he could see that the glass had been swept up already and all trace of his violent spree was erased.
"I was not staring," Mckay repeated lamely.
"Fine," said Sheppard with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You weren't staring. You were just admiring my face." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.
Mckay snapped his laptop closed. He was only pretending he had work anyway.
"Ah you're awake," Beckett said as he entered the infirmary wielding a syringe.
Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest and twisted his legs under the covers. The all over itching and crawling sensation was back with a vengeance.
"Is that the Enzyme?" Mckay asked, standing up to join him.
"Aye."
"Great," Sheppard muttered in a flat voice. He pushed the covers aside and held out his arm for Beckett whilst staring off at some point in the distance.
Beckett and Mckay both shared a look he missed.
Mckay couldn't stop himself and asked what was on both of their minds. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Beckett slapped him on his arm and Sheppard whipped his head around to look at him, "Oh, I don't know Rodney. I was fed on by a wraith. What's up with you?"
"You're playing the sympathy card now?" Mckay put his hands on his hips.
"No."
"Yes you are."
Beckett walked over to Sheppard and began to prep his veins for the injection, all the while trying to keep concentrated on his task as the two men continued to bicker. "This won't take long to take effect and you should start to feel much better."
"Rodney, maybe I'm in a bad mood because I woke up to find you staring at me."
"I wasn't staring. I was just making sure you were still alive."
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," Sheppard ground out as Beckett injected the contents of the syringe in one practiced move.
"You've been in a mood since you got back and.." he held up an accusatory finger, "You haven't talked about what happened to you."
"Does that bother you?" he asked as he felt a flood of warmth flow through his veins. He felt momentarily dizzy as the itching, the pain and his persistent headache dissipated.
"It bothers me that it's all pent up. We had to talk to Kate."
"Oh, so because you had to, I have to. Are you like twelve or something?" He blinked slowly as his surroundings came into focus. The colours looked a little brighter to his eyes.
"You punched that cabinet earlier." Mckay gestured to it wildly.
"At least I didn't hit a person."
"It shows that you have issues."
"Are you feeling any pain? Nausea?" Beckett interjected forcibly as he disposed of the empty syringe.
"Fine," Sheppard snapped at him without looking him in the eye, "I feel great." He paused, "Great," he said in a slightly slurred voice.
"You need to talk about it. You were fed on by a wraith," Mckay's face was turning an unnatural shade of red as he continued to vent.
Sheppard made eye contact and didn't speak.
They were locked in a non verbal stand off and Sheppard finally broke it.
By giggling.
"What?" Mckay asked turning to Beckett.
Sheppard continued to laugh and he shook his head, "I'm fine," he said as he tried to stifle more erupting laughter. It was bubbling inside and he shook as he tried to push it back down.
"Why are you laughing?" Mckay asked folding his arms across his chest.
Sheppard shook his head, "I have no idea," he laughed loudly and rolled onto his side, eyes watering, hands gripping the railing.
"Carson?"
"It's the enzyme. It'll take a few hours for his system to metabolise it and level out."
"So…… he's high?" Mckay said with a look of surprise.
Sheppard continued to chuckle and he said in a dreamy voice, "I'm high," he clutched his stomach, "High," he slouched down in his bed and gripped the covers, "As a Jumper."
"Make. It. Stop," Mckay asked desperately.
"I can't," said Beckett, "At least he's happy." He tilted his head to the side as he watched Sheppard.
"He's drugged," Mckay shot back at him.
"Wow," Sheppard said managing to get his laughter under control, "It's like…" he was looking up at the lights "Its like a rainbow." He smiled and closed his eyes, "Pretty."
"Carson."
"Give it a few hours and he'll be fine. I'm still experimenting with the dose."
"Experimenting?" Mckay sighed, "So, it is voodoo you practice."
"This is to be expected. The enzyme is assaulting his system like a drug. I'll notch down the dose with each injection." He patted Mckay on the arm, "He'll be fine."
"We were arguing. I can't even carry on a conversation with him while he's like this."
"Rodney," Beckett warned.
"I don't want to argue," Sheppard announced sitting up in the bed. He stared at Mckay intently. "I…"
"Don't say it," said Mckay as he covered his face with his hand.
"I love you Rodney. Even if you were staring at me."
"I wasn't-"
"He was Carson," he said giggling again.
"This is so wrong."
"I love you too Carson. I love you all. I love Atlantis. I love-"
"Do you love Kolya?" Mckay asked walking over to the bed and clamping his hands around the railing.
"Rodney," Beckett said jabbing him the side, "Are you completely insensitive?"
"Hey, he needs to wake up and deal with this. We're having too."
Sheppard stopped laughing, thought about the question, and then made a raspberry sound as he exploded into a fit of hilarity again, "Kol-ya. What a stupid name. Kol-ya. Koool-yaaaa. It's like Koala. Ko-aaala. Coo-la."
"Like I said. Give him a couple of hours and then I would appreciate it if you could take him for some lunch."
"Take him to the commissary…like this?" He indicated to where Sheppard was staring up at the ceiling with a smile plastered across his face.
"Its only this initial dose which is causing his euphoric like reaction. Any subsequent reduced dosed wont affect him as much and as I said Rodney, it will shortly be metabolised and his system will level out. The exercise would be good for him."
"I thought people were supposed to be all mellow when they were drugged," said Mckay with a shake of his head.
"The lunch time rush will be over in an hour." Beckett chuckled and left Mckay to his patient.
"Fine," Mckay said as he uncrossed his arms.
"Fine," Sheppard mimicked and exploded into raucous laughter again.
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"You go and sit down at a table and I'll bring you your food. Don't move, don't talk to anyone and just look……sane."
Sheppard sighed and walked over to one of the vacant tables as Mckay went to get him some food.
He returned minutes later, placing a tray in front of him and sitting opposite.
Sheppard picked up the cutlery and tapped it on the table as he looked over his tray. Mckay, he noticed, had two desserts, one of them being his allocated dessert. On his tray was a bland looking meal, definitely no dessert, and a box of juice.
As he tapped the cutlery he could see Mckay getting irritated and in a bid to further that annoyance he broke into a drum solo, tapping the cutlery in a well timed rhythm.
"Are you still high?" Mckay asked.
Sheppard smiled and stopped his improvised instrumental, "No." he said, "I'm fine."
He tapped his cutlery again, "Just thought this place could use some music." He was shocked when somebody behind him started to tap their cutlery, joining in him in his musical. He raised an eyebrow and smiled as Mckay sank back into his seat.
After a few beats somebody else was clinking their fork on the side of their glass, elsewhere someone was using a tray as a drum, another person was stamping their foot on the ground and music filled the commissary. Sheppard drummed his cutlery as he watched people in the room starting to dance and-
"Sheppard?"
Sheppard looked up from his internal reverie and watched as Mckay put a tray of food in front of him and pulled a chair over to sit opposite him.
"Oh my god, are you still high?"
Sheppard looked over his shoulder to see that the commissary was near empty and silent. Everything that had just happened had been in his mind. "I'm fine," he said with a small embarrassed smile.
Mckay narrowed his eyes; "You were…… drumming your hands on the table."
"I was…occupying myself until you came back."
"Oh," said Mckay delving into his mash, "Because it looked like you were playing the drums. "
Sheppard looked down at his tray to avert his gaze.
"Oh, by the way, you have an appointment with Kate at four."
Sheppard checked his watch. It was one o clock. "Carson?"
"Yep," said Mckay as he talked through a mouthful of food, "He thought that while you were feeling well enough it wouldn't be a bad idea to get some things off your chest."
"I don't want to talk to her," Sheppard said as he poked his food.
"Neither did I." Mckay mumbled as he watched Sheppard from across the table.
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Sheppard knocked on the door to Heightmeyer's office and waited for her to call him in before entering. When the door had slid shut behind him, he realised that he was trapped and he was going to be forced to deal with his ordeal. The enzyme he had been given had notched down, reaching familiar levels where his fingers twitched again and the odd pain crept up his abused limbs.
"Why don't you take a seat Colonel?"
He sat stiffly, perched at the edge of the seat, uncomfortable and ready to run.
"I'm glad to see you looking better," she said as she opened a notepad and flipped it over to a clean page. She balanced her pen between her fingers as she spoke in a voice that exuded calm and caring.
"Well, as you know, I didn't make this appointment."
"I'm glad Doctor Beckett did," she said.
"So," he said clasping his hands together and twisting them just for something to do.
"Do you remember what we spoke about last time?"
"Traumatic incident something or other," he said as his eyes strayed unwillingly towards the window.
"Traumatic incident reduction," she clarified for him.
"You want me to watch the video feed and assess myself."
"You were listening?" she said in a surprised tone.
He shrugged and cracked his fingers on his good hand.
"We haven't spoken very often. Where your other team-mates have willingly been open with me, you have always maintained a distance. I get it," she said, "You don't like talking. You don't like answering questions. So, I simply want you to watch the video. You can comment where you feel necessary and I will just sit and facilitate."
"And then I can go?"
"Yes. But I want you to have at least three of these sessions with me."
He sighed, "Okay." It sounded simple enough. Watch the video and get out. He could do that. He already knew what was coming up. He'd been there after all. Easy.
Heightmeyer stood up in one fluid motion and indicated to a screen that was hooked up to Sheppard's left. He moved his chair around to face it as she clicked a button and the screen fuzzed to life.
She passed him a remote, "You can forward, rewind and pause whenever you like."
"All I need is my popcorn," he joked as she sat back behind her desk.
Sheppard watched as the screen juddered and then a grainy image confronted him. It was Kolya, standing in front of the camera.
He was sitting behind him, bound and gagged on a chair. He figured that it must have been a fairly dramatic reveal.
He felt the initial surge of anger creep through his veins as he watch Kolya coldly speak. He could remember with sickening clarity what he said.
"Bastard," he muttered under his breath.
He heard Heightmeyer scribbled something down on the pad behind him.
Kolya stood aside to reveal him. Definitely dramatic. There he was.
He'd never considered what he looked like from this perspective before. He was sitting up straight in the chair, a gag around his mouth, hands tied behind his back and he was staring forward. At the time, he remembered that portraying this outward composure was incredibly important because of his team who he knew would be watching. He didn't want them to see him scared, injured or having second thoughts.
Thank god, he had been gagged because it was hiding the grimace he was wearing from the pain shooting up the back of his shoulders from where he had been roughly dragged to the ground by the harpoon.
"That's me," Sheppard said pointing to the screen with the remote, "Its right what they say about the camera. Adds pounds." He'd intended to smile, but it died on his lips. This wasn't funny.
"Was Ladon here the first time?" he asked glancing over his shoulder at Heightmeyer.
"I believe so."
Sheppard nodded and returned his eyes back to the screen.
"On my command authority, whatever he asks don't do it!"
"Well as you can see he's his usual charming self."
"Smug bastard."
There was more scribbling behind him from Heightmeyer.
There was back and forth chat between Kolya and Elizabeth as he recalled. Then Kolya turned back to him, "Allow me to help expedite that decision."
Sheppard sighed, "I don't see the point in watching this. I know what happens in this movie." He knew that his point was futile. He was getting worked up watching the video, it was eliciting reactions from him and that's exactly why Heightmeyer wanted him to watch it.
"Colonel, you agreed to give it a go. If you want to stop it, then I guess that's your decision."
She was trying to use reverse psychology on him. It was working. Turning it off at this point would only prove her point that he had unresolved issues. He didn't want to give her ammunition.
Sheppard focused on the screen. He could feel his adrenaline levels amp up. He knew what was coming. His palms were sweating and he was feeling dizzy and sick.
He watched as the wraith was brought in, made to stand in front of him. He had thought when he was there that he had managed to control his fear, but watching the video feed now he could see that his eyes were wide and his breathing had obviously increased because his chest was rising and falling in quick succession. He looked terrified.
He glanced back at Heightmeyer and then back to the screen.
It seemed like an eternity before what he knew was coming arrived. He watched as the wraith clamped his hand down onto his chest and he was fed upon.
He grimaced and unconsciously rubbed at his chest.
He remembered the pain with startling clarity, the way it had snatched his breath. On the video, he snapped his head back, eyes wide in horror, a strained sound escaping his lips. Sheppard tried to avert his eyes from what he was confronted with, but some part of his stubborn mind kept his eyes locked in place.
"Shit," he muttered and reached for the remote, clamouring for the pause button.
He finally hit it and looked up to where he had paused it.
A close up on his face. Defeated, aged and in obvious excruciating pain.
"How do you turn this off?" he said as he fumbled with the controls, "Where's the…" his vision was blurred and he couldn't see the off button. "I can't find the-"
The next thing he knew, Heightmeyer was up from her seat and turning the video off at the screen.
The screen went black and Sheppard shot up from his seat, swiping a hand through his hair and panting in and out heavily.
"Are you okay?" Heightmeyer asked.
He paced in tight circles, his hands up behind his head and his eyes half closed, "I'm…fine," he gritted out as the pain in his chest swelled.
"Do you want to sit down?"
"No," he said stopping dead, "No, I…uh…I think its time for my next dose. Carson said I had to get it ….at …..some point." He couldn't remember when he had said exactly, his mind had gone blank and self preservation was informing him to run.
"I think you've seen enough for today," Heightmeyer educated him in a soothing voice.
"Yeah," he said with a deflated sigh, "yeah, I think I have."
"Will you come back tomorrow?"
Sheppard's mind was filled with the vision of him being fed on and he couldn't shake it. That's what his friends had seen. "Uhh," he tried to coordinate his exhausted thoughts and leant on the chair to steady himself, "I….uh," If he fought her, he'd be there all day. If he said yes, he could escape right now. "Yeah," he said with an uncertain nod, "Whatever. That's…fine," he mumbled as he headed for the door.
He thought he'd looked under control when he was sat in that chair. Thought he looked composed and sure of himself. In command.
Now he wasn't so sure.
When he left Heightmeyer's office he walked down the corridor with nothing more than a need to keep moving, to keep going until his mind had worked that image out. He rounded a corner, the corridor was empty, and he allowed himself to sink to his knees.
TBC