After Effects
By Wyndhamfan
Disclaimers in Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Elizabeth ran to the puddle jumper bay, not knowing what to expect, not wanting to know what to expect either. The pilots only said that they managed to retrieve the Colonel and that he was "fine". Before she could press them for more details, they severed the connection only to appear through the gate moments later.
She slowed her steps when she approached the docked puddle jumper. The medical team was already there with a stretcher waiting; all gave her a grim look as she walked down the stairs hesitantly.
What did Carson say? That the chances of anyone surviving even a partial feeding was nil? The medical team was probably aware of the odds themselves. And they didn't look hopeful of the outcome. Elizabeth swallowed nervously and fixed her gaze at the closed rear doors of the jumper as she approached it, wondering just how bad Sheppard's condition was.
Then the rear doors opened.
John insisted on walking. No way in hell was he going to be supported by anyone when he could very well walk on his own. But the first thing he saw was the medical team and the gurney, which meant that his fight for independence was going to be short lived.
And then there was Elizabeth. She stood there before him with her hands clutched so tightly together that they were white from the strain. When she saw that he was the first to walk out, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. Then she smiled; her smile trembled as if she didn't have control over her features. If he had a camera he would've used it. It was a rare thing to see Elizabeth Weir's famed nerves of steel waver.
"John?" she took a few tentative steps towards him. As if she wasn't sure that he was standing there.
"Yeah," he said, smiling. Best to reassure her as quickly as he can.
At that, Weir walked quickly towards him and enveloped him in a hug.
That caught him off guard, so he didn't know what to do for a while. He just stood there stiffly, letting her hug him ... then he gently wrapped his arms around her.
Yeah. I thought I was a goner too, he thought.
He vaguely heard someone half-coughing, half-chuckling behind him and fought the urge to find out who the culprit was. Just as he was about to lose the battle, Elizabeth broke the hug and looked at him intensely. "But ... but we saw ... Are you okay? Are you injured?"
"No-" he began when Carson grabbed him by the elbow and shepperded him to the waiting medical team. He groaned inwardly but didn't protest when Beckett made him sit on the stretcher. Elizabeth followed them – in fact, so did the rest of his team, who watched over him like a couple of mother hens.
"No!" Rodney barked in disbelief. "Colonel, your attempts at being Mr Invicible Hero is getting stupid. He was life-sucked by a wraith, Elizabeth. Thrice! How well do you think he'll be?"
That made Elizabeth shudder anew. "Carson?" she asked.
"Physically – he is fine," he said. She exhaled in surprise.
"See?" Sheppard said, giving her a confident smile.
"But since we have not come across a situation where a Wraith bestows life on a person that has been fed off by a Wraith, I would say it warrants an overnight observation. At least," he said, giving the Colonel a stern glare.
"Oh, hell no," Sheppard muttered despondently.
"Understood," she nodded, giving Beckett a big smile. Sheppard scowled.
Then, she blinked. "Wait. You said the Wraith gave him life?" she asked in disbelief.
"Aye, couldn't believe it myself," he said as he helped Sheppard lie down on the stretcher. The medical team began rolling Sheppard to the infirmary and the team followed from behind.
Teyla spoke to Weir in a soft voice, debriefing her about what just happened. She described how they had heard Sheppard's cry and how they had pulled the Wraith away only to find John ... whole and unaged. Rodney noted, however, that she left out the part where John left the Wraith on a planet riddled with Wraith Darts.
"Never in my life have I seen such a thing" said Teyla, sounding almost awe-struck. She gave Sheppard a mystified look.
"And the Wraith? What happened to him?" Weir asked. Elizabeth was sharp – that's why she had her job – and it didn't miss her notice that Teyla had deliberately left that information out.
Ronon and Teyla exchanged a look. Rodney looked particularly uncomfortable, taking a sudden interest in an Ancient device he pulled out from his pocket.
And Weir knew that she would probably not like the answer. She nodded at the team and said, "Rest, all of you. Debrief me tomorrow," she said. Meanwhile, she'll try her best to leave John alone and not to pry the answer out of him.
x...x...x
He awoke with a start, startled to realise that he was sitting up in a bed ... an unfamiliar bed in a room filled with beeping machines.
His breath was coming out in gasps, and he was soaked with sweat. He ran a shaking hand through his dampened hair and blearily looked around trying to figure out where he was.
"Colonel? Colonel, how are you, son?"
It took a moment for him to realise that there was a familiar-looking man standing in front of him. The man reached out to clasp his hand – the hand that was rubbing his chest absently – and gently placed it down at his side.
"Does it hurt, Colonel? Your chest?" asked the man in concern.
Sheppard frowned. His chest? Hurt? What? Where was he?
"Disoriented," the man tsked. Then: "Okay, Colonel, let me have a look," said the man as he gently removed his scrubs.
John frowned as clarity returned in a sudden rush. He grasped Beckett's hand.
"I like you, Doc. But not like that," he said, fixing the Scot with a puzzled look. He managed a small smile for Beckett.
Beckett blinked a few times, then sighed heavily with relief. "Oh, thank God, Colonel. You had me worried there. Bad dream?"
Sheppard blinked heavily. "Dream? No ..." he sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "I ... can't remember ... what did you give me, Doc? I don't even remember falling asleep."
"Aye, I gave you something to help you sleep. You were wired the whole night, no thanks, in part, to the fact that your team mates refused to leave your side until I threatened them with an infirmary stay, and I thought a mild relaxant would help things," he said.
"It helped all right. And then some. I feel as if I've been asleep for years. How long?"
"Up to 12 hours now," answered Beckett.
Sheppard groaned. "And you didn't wake me?"
The doctor gave him a look of disbelief. "Wake you when you tried unsuccessfully for almost four hours last night to sleep? Son, you need all the sleep you can get."
The remnants of the nightmare flirted in Sheppard's head, the details vague but the terror still fresh. He swallowed convulsively and threw his blankets aside. He had to get out of here. Now. But when he swung his legs to the side of the bed, he felt something pull at his wrist and realised that he had an IV attached to the back of his hand.
"Colonel! What the hell do you think you're doing? Get back in bed right now!" Beckett snapped, grabbing him by the shoulders.
"Sure thing, Carson. I'll get back into bed. My bed."
"I knew you'd be up to your usual tricks the moment you woke up. Well, you can forget it, Colonel. There's still too much-"
"Is everything all right, Carson?" interrupted someone.
The two men turned to look at Elizabeth standing at the doorway, looking at them with amusement.
"No, everything is not all right because the Colonel here believes that he's the chief medical officer of Atlantis, not me, and insists that it's time for him to be discharged from the infirmary," Beckett said, exasperated.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and gave Sheppard an amused look.
"Hey, those were not my words. But he kinda got the gist right. 'cept for the medical officer part."
Elizabeth chuckled softly and then turned serious.
"John, stay. No negotiating," she said firmly when he opened his mouth to protest.
"Thank you," Beckett said gladly, which earned him a dirty look from Sheppard. Beckett then directed a nurse to take care of the Colonel while he and Elizabeth spoke quietly in his office.
x...x...x
Sheppard sighed when the nurse was done checking his IV and flopped bonelessly into his bed, gazing at the boring infirmary ceiling. This will be his fate for goodness how long, because here, Carson was king.
"Hmm, you look like crap."
"And hello to you, Rodney," he said without taking his eyes off the ceiling.
A book appeared in his line of vision. War and Peace. Sheppard took it gratefully and gave Rodney a smile.
"Figured you'd be bored to tears. I'd think you'd stock up on your library, but that's all you have in your room. War and Peace. Not exactly convalescence reading."
"Hey. Must've nodded off abruptly on you guys last night, cos the last thing I remembered was asking you about your date with Hartman. Don't remember the answer though."
"Oh, what you really meant to say was 'the kiss with Carson'," said Rodney peevishly.
He chuckled at that. He hadn't had enough fun ribbing Rodney about that. Not yet.
"It's the 2050th time you've asked me that same tired question, it's getting old, and for the record, it wasn't me, got that? And I'm going to have Zelenka's hide for circulating that picture in the network. Again."
That got him chuckling again, and Rodney scowling and lecturing him about having the maturity of a "nine-year-old still in diapers."
They spent the next few minutes in companionable silence; McKay was busy scribbling some notes while John flipped through the pages of his well-read book absently. Until Sheppard asked: "Why were you on that mission?"
Rodney looked as if he was asked whether the Earth is square. "Why? What kind of question is that?"
"You weren't military. And it was a military operation. You could've gotten killed."
"Well," Rodney looked flustered. "They needed me to be on standby for any technical difficulties and all that. A genius at hand for any military operation is always an asset, and for your information, I am tougher than I look. And I'm a good shot."
"Yeah, I heard you took out that rat. Good job."
"Shut up and read your book," Rodney instructed.
x...x...x
Elizabeth studied John's medical chart; it was meaningless to her, of course. But she hoped to at least decipher some form of information in it. There weren't that many alarming words on it, and there were lots of "normal" and "average", which were all good signs in her book.
Reluctantly, she placed the charts on Beckett's table.
"Carson, what did your tests show?"
The Scottish doctor sighed and tiredly sat at the edge of the table.
"To be honest. Nothing. And everything," he said, a heavy frown marring his usually cheerful features.
"What do you mean?" she didn't like vague answers like that, and Carson was never vague ... unless he wasn't sure. And Carson was almost always sure.
"His organs are the healthiest they've ever been and except for an elevated blood pressure – not surprising after what he's been through – he's tired, but on the whole he seems fine."
"But you have your doubts," she said slowly.
"Aye. As peachy as his medical condition seems to be, it seems to me that his body is working too well. And I've found an unidentified protein in his blood. And the fact that it bears a close resemblance to the enzyme we found in Lt Ford is a cause for concern."
Both cast a worried look at Sheppard, who was now talking to Rodney animatedly.
"Is it ... addictive?"
"No ... it doesn't seem to be. The protein doesn't seem to have the same addictive properties. For now, I'm not sure how long it'll be in the system, or ... what are the side effects on Col. Sheppard if it leaves his body."
"Are you saying that his health is temporary?"
"No, Elizabeth. What I'm saying is that we know so little about the Wraith feeding process, let alone the Wraith life-giving process, that we're working in the dark here. For all we know, he may walk away from this without as much as a sniffle. Logically, after the stress that his body has been through, he should be dead ... at least severely weakened. But look at him!" he threw up his hands in amazement.
"Frankly ... I don't know what I'm looking at, Elizabeth. Until we're sure, he's staying in the infirmary," he said.
She nodded. "Understood. And if the Col protests, sic the marines on him," she said briskly, a smile curling her lips.
"Aye, he'll love that," Beckett chuckled.
x...x...x
"Keeping my patient awake, Rodney?"
Sheppard looked up and saw that Elizabeth and Beckett had returned from their Very Important Conversation. He had no doubts that he was the main topic.
"No, he's doing that pretty well on his own, thanks," Rodney replied.
Their banter became background noise as John returned his attention to his book. The vague sense of unease that the nightmare left him with was still there – if not, increasing in intensity. He needed to distract himself from it ... he needed to leave this place.
Something dropped from the book.
Curious, he picked it up.
His blood froze.
It was a photograph of a man in a desert. A man whom he had tried so hard to forget. He had never taken a picture of him. Never. They didn't have the time to being where they were. Yet, here it was. The heavily tanned face stared out from the photograph, the pale green eyes staring accusingly at him. That was one thing he could never forget – how pale and lifeless they seemed.
"John? John, are you all right?"
Elizabeth's calm, husky voice drew him back, and he tore his eyes away from the photograph to meet her concerned eyes. Then, he turned accusing eyes to Rodney.
"Where did you get it?"
The physicist frowned. "Get what?"
He moved his hand to pick up the photo, but his hand met with nothing.
"What?" he whispered in confusion.
"Yeah, that was my question," Rodney said, his tone haughty. But there was an undercurrent of concern in it as well.
Someone pushed Rodney aside.
"It is not over, Sheppard," growled a deep voice. And he froze. No. It couldn't be. Not here.
He looked up slowly, and there he was. The Wraith – the one he didn't have time or thought to name – stood next to his bed. He gave him a wide smile, his sharp teeth glinting in the light.
"I need more, John Sheppard."
"No," he whispered, terror making his voice shake. Never show your terror. Never-
The Wraith roared and lunged, and John felt something stab his chest. The pain – Oh God, the pain! And for the first time since the nightmare began, he screamed-
- and found himself sitting up in the infirmary bed, looking at Carson Beckett's strained expression.
"Colonel, can you hear me now, lad?"
He found it difficult to stop shaking ... he realised that he was holding his breath and took a desperate gulp of air, coughing in the process.
"Oh God," he whispered between gasps. His hand instinctively went to his chest where the Wraith had latched onto. He felt nothing there. No blood. Not even a scar. Like it never happened. But the pain was still there, throbbing silently above his heart.
"Colonel, I want you to look at me," said Beckett. He realised then that he had drifted off in a daze, and had stared at the privacy curtains in front of him for some time. He did, tentatively.
"Are you in any pain?" the doctor asked carefully.
He closed his eyes, trying to regain his shattered composure.
"No," he answered roughly. Which was the truth. The pain was gone by then. Beckett gently pushed him back to bed, saying that it'll be good if he lay down. He was so wiped out from the nightmare that he didn't even protest – which got Beckett even more concerned and he started checking one of the many machines around him.
"Did I even wake up?" he asked, his voice still husky from sleep.
"What? Yes, you did. Elizabeth was here ... so was Rodney, remember? You fell asleep while we were talking."
Sheppard shifted his gaze to the nightstand, and there lay his battered copy of War and Peace. Abrubtly, he got up and snatched the book from the stand, flipping through the pages. Beckett watched his manic actions with a puzzled and anxious expression.
"Colonel?" he asked.
"No photo," Sheppard murmured.
"It was just a dream," the doctor assured softly. He gently took the book away from his grip and eased him back to bed.
"Get some sleep, Colonel," he said.
As Sheppard lay in bed, exhausted, he mustered the strength to say defiantly: "I want to return to my quarters."
Surprisingly, Beckett nodded. "We'll see how you are in the morning. Then you're free to go."
He watched Beckett leave the confines of his curtained-off area and wished for morning to arrive soon.
x...x...x
"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Of course," Beckett muttered to himself. The Colonel was not going to like it, but he will be having a few sessions with Kate Heightmeyer in the future.
He had been working in his office when he heard the scream. A scream that he had heard only once before – when the Iratus bug had clamped onto the Colonel's neck fiercely when they had tried to remove it with salt water. He feared the worst when the scream was cut off abrubtly, and he yelled for his nurses to ready the crash cart. But when he drew the curtains aside, he saw Sheppard sitting up, pale and unresponsive. His fears increased when the Colonel didn't respond to his calls but instead stared blankly through him. And when he shook the Colonel and his eyes didn't even blink, he was sure that the man was catatonic. Then, John suddenly took a long, choking breath, as if coming up for air after being suffocated.
The colonel never screamed once when the Wraith fed on him during Koyla's perverted 'live' telecast. Did not even show the terror that was only hinted in his eyes.
Beckett sighed, studying Sheppard's medical charts absently. Everything seemed in order except for the elevated blood pressure. His blood work, however, still had too many questions surrounding it to set him at ease.
When he saw the Wraith supposedly feeding on Sheppard back on that blasted planet, he had expected the worst. Sheppard could not survive a fourth feeding. They were too late.
But then Sheppard came back – hell, he literally bounced up and demanded that they not shoot the Wraith, appearing healthy, and as boisterous and confident as ever. It was just another demonstration how strong-willed John Sheppard was. And how bloody lucky the man was.
Of course, even if he was hurting or afraid, the Colonel would never let on, preferring to disguise it with a joke or three. And that made the job more difficult for Beckett, and especially Kate. No, he didn't envy the work Kate had to do.
Releasing him from the infirmary was a risky move, but a familiar environment may help Sheppard recover faster.
"Doctor Beckett?" whispered a voice.
He let out a small eep and would've dropped the medical charts if Ronon hadn't quickly caught them.
"I'm sorry to startle you, Dr Beckett," Teya apologised.
The Athosian and Satedan were dressed in their exercise clothes, which meant that they've just completed their usual sparring session at the gym. Teyla held her sparring sticks in white-knuckled hands, and Beckett suspected that they both must have heard Sheppard screaming because they were breathing harder than normal – like they had run as if a banshee was on their trail.
"Teyla, Ronon. Late night sparring, eh?" he asked distractedly.
"We heard him scream. Is he all right?" Teyla asked softly, lowering her voice so that she would not disturb Sheppard.
"Aye, lass. He's shaken, but he's fine. It was just a nightmare."
Ronon cursed – apparently in Satedan since Beckett didn't understand what he just said – and whispered harshly, "We should have killed that Wraith."
Ah, the Wraith. The Wraith that Sheppard had let go. His actions had stunned the team, but they did not question what he did because they trusted him. For some inexplicable reason, the Wraith and Sheppard had formed some kind of odd bond. A bond that Sheppard was determined to honour.And John Sheppard always tried to do the right thing and he was determined to do so no matter what they said.
"Somehow, I doubt that killing the Wraith will ease his nightmares," said Teyla sadly. "But he is all right?"
"Aye, he is. But he needs to rest," he said firmly.
Teyla and Ronon got the hint. Teyla gave him a nod and together, the two left the infirmary quietly.
Alone again, Beckett stared at the curtained off area where John lay ... and sighed, praying to the nameless gods of the Pegasus galaxy that Sheppard will have no more to deal with besides nightmares.