Notes: Um, I know, it's been so long. Sigh, I can't seem to be able to sit down in one place and write these days. ; Anyway, thanks for being patient – as always. Here's the latest chapter. Three more chapters to gooooo!
Chapter 6
Sheppard's body was now reeling from the delayed shock of being fed on the wraith four times. His organs were a mess – on day two of his stay in the infirmary, Sheppard was close to kidney failure. Luckily, it didn't go down that road. His immune system was also shot - he had caught an infection that gave him a fever that further addled his already chaotic brain.
It was difficult to watch Sheppard the way he was now, heavily drugged and sweating profusely, awake only when Carson performed one of his intrusive tests. And if he was awake, he wasn't necessarily John Sheppard. At times his personality was so out there that Rodney could've sworn he was speaking to a different person – like the time when Sheppard turned petulant and demanded that he hand him his laptop so that he could play Pacman. It would've funny if not for the fact that Sheppard had then proceeded to knock down all the bottles of medicines and a glass of water off the bedside table in one angry swipe when McKay hesitated.
Between the bouts of delirium intersped with psychosis, Rodney was glad that Sheppard was unconscious most of the time.
They all took turns to be at his side, but he was often asleep when they were there, or if they were unlucky, they were there when Sheppard had one of his psychotic episodes. Once, Ronon had to help the nurses hold the Colonel down as he fought them with surprising strength, trying all his might to get off the bed all the while yelling that they were Genii.
"Carson. This is getting irritating. There must be some improvement after days of this!" he said.
Carson looked up to the heavens as if pleading strength from a deity, and then smiled tightly at Rodney.
"Believe me, Rodney. It's my most fervent wish to see him get through this."
"Are you sure you're giving him the right drugs so that he won't stay crazy permanently?" Rodney demanded.
"I'm here, you know," Sheppard growled, his voice hoarse from disuse.
Rodney and Carson looked down in surprise to see Sheppard finally awake after a 10-hour-long feverish stupor.
"Oh, good. I thought you were still in la-la land," Rodney said. "You do know you are on Atlantis, right?" he asked tentatively.
"Colonel? How do you feel?" Carson asked, ignoring Rodney's question.
"Like I'm being pumped full of drugs I can't even pronounce," he said sourly.
The doctor grinned at that, but quickly turned serious. "Sorry about that, Colonel, but it's necessary."
"I'm not crazy," he muttered, as if he was trying to convince them.
"No, that you're not," Carson reassured him.
"Even if I did hallucinate once in a while," John insisted.
And then some, thought Rodney, remembering how, four days ago, when the Colonel yanked out almost all the wires and tubes he was connected to and yelled at poor Nurse Marion, calling her a Taliban soldier. He then grabbed one of the IV needles he had yanked out and waved it clumsily at the nurse before collapsing in a dead faint a moment later. After that episode, Sheppard slept for 30 hours, worn out and battling a fever so high that Carson thought of ordering an ice bath. Thank God his temperature fell a little – he was still suffering from a high fever, but it wasn't dangerously high like before.
"It is temporary, right?" John croaked; Rodney could hear the tremor of fear beneath the calm voice.
"Yes," Carson answered confidently. He gently placed the stethoscope on Sheppard's chest and listened to the Colonel's breathing.
Sheppard blinked away sweat from his eyes and ponderously lifted a hand with two IV drips attached to it, to wipe his forehead.
A cloth appeared out of nowhere, and Rodney realised that a nurse – Marion, in fact – was dabbing Sheppard's forehead. The Colonel sighed in relief and sank into his bed. Slowly, his eyes closed and he was still for so long that they thought that he had fallen asleep, but he suddenly asked softly: "How long?"
"How long have you been in the ... infirmary?" Carson asked tentatively.
Sheppard nodded weakly, his eyes still closed.
"It's been five days," Carson replied.
Wearily, Sheppard opened his eyes to mere slits to look at the doctor.
"Tell me, doc ... and I want the truth. Is this permanent?" he asked again.
"I don't believe so. There seems to be an indication that your body is returning to normal. Your kidneys , for example, are showing improved function. And you are lucid more often now. Good signs, all of them."
"Then, why don't I believe you?" he muttered. He sighed and then seem to sink further into the bed. He stared at the ceiling blearily and his eyes went blank.
"Colonel?" Rodney asked softly.
At first, he didn't reply. His stare remained blank for so long that Rodney was convinced that he had gone into one of his "episodes". Suddenly, Sheppard muttered: "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep."
Carson reacted by gently steering Rodney away from the bed.
"Are we going to add Prozac to the list of meds he's having?" Rodney whispered under his breath.
When Carson didn't answer that, his jaw dropped open. "He's already having it, isn't he?" he exclaimed.
"Aye, and I'll appreciate it if you keep it to yourself, thanks. The last thing he needs is for watercooler talk centering around his depression. That's not what he needs now."
Sheppard opened an eye, then another, when he heard their voices fade away. When he realised that he was finally alone, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Alone at last, he finally allowed himself to feel afraid. He stared at the ceiling,wondering how long he'd stay lucid this time. The funny thing about loosing your mind is that you're aware that something is wrong when you come out of it, but when you're deep in the midst of a crazy episode, you think that your lucid moments were your crazy ones. It's not a fun place to be.
"Indeed, Sheppard. This is not the place for you to be."
Oh God. So soon?
"You're not there, you know. So I don't have to turn my head to acknowledge you," he said to the ceiling. Which, he thinks, looks like what a crazy person would do anyway.
Silence, then. "You disappoint me, Sheppard."
He knew he shouldn't give the figment of his overheated and not-so-healthy imagination credit, but despite himself he was curious to know what exactly disappointed his delusion so much.
"Really?"
"I never thought you'd give in to your captors so easily."
He turned away and closed his eyes. I am on Atlantis. I'm nowhere near Earth, let alone some dessert. And this is 2006. Not-
"Sheppard!"
The voice was right next to his ear. He bolted to a sitting position and twisted around ... and was face to face with his hallucination ... the man that was tailing him all the while.
"Say my name, Sheppard," said the apparition.
Sheppard took it all in – the man's grime-encrusted face, the brown eyes that were so intense they seem to suck you in ... the grim line of his cracked lips ...
"You're not real," he said shakily.
The man slowly reached out and clasped his shoulders. Sheppard flinched when he felt the dig of the man's fingers against his arms.
"Does this not feel real to you, Sheppard? Do you need more proof? Perhaps I shall spit on you instead to prove my existence to you."
"I never did get your sense of humour," he said dryly.
"So, where are you now, Sheppard?"
Somewhere at the back of his mind, a little voice was begging him not to listen to the man. But this man was real, wasn't he? He felt solid, warm ...
"A..." he began.
"Say it, Sheppard. Or they win."
"They?" he whispered huskily.
"Can you not remember, American? They beat you. Drugged you. Pretended to be your friends. But they're not, are they, Sheppard?"
He looked away uncertainly.
The man grabbed his chin and forced him to stare into his dark ones. "They are deceiving you. Or have they deceived you already? Trust me, American. I will leave you here to rot if you continue to be this way!"
With a snort of derision, the man turned away. And suddenly, it all became clear. The pristine walls of the infirmary faded to the grimy, dank walls of the cave. And he was horrified at how easily he was duped. It was not real. None of it was ...
"Wait!" the cry left his throat before he could stop it.
The man turned, and frowned. "Where are you, Sheppard?" he demanded.
"A ... Afghanistan. The warlord. He caught me two days ago. Killed everyone in my unit. I don't understand why I'm here," he whispered, confused.
"You don't need to know, Sheppard. We are running out of time. We must leave. Now." With that, the man began to walk away.
Quickly, he began removing the needles attached to his arms. Of course. Why didn't he realise it sooner? He was being drugged – the evidence was all there. He was so stupid. Must not let them get to me again.
As his bare feet touched the floor, he heard someone say,
"Colonel? Where the hell are you going?!"
He froze, then turned slowly to look at the newcomer suspiciously.
Rodney McKay frowned. "What are you doing out of bed? And did you yank out your IV?" he demanded. Then, his eyes widened. "Um. Why are you looking at me like that?"
x...X...x
Ronon knew from long, torturous experience that it only took a few careless seconds for things to go wrong very badly, very quickly. He was thinking that when he entered the infirmary to find Rodney McKay sprawled on the floor beside Sheppard's now-empty bed.
I only left for a minute, he thought, annoyed.
He shook Rodney roughly, which elicited a grunt from the physicist.
"Leave me alone. Dr Who doesn't come on in another hour..." he mumbled.
"Rodney!" he roared.
That did the trick. The scientist sat up quickly, his eyes wide.
"Shit! Sheppard! He is out of bed! He ..." Rodney's hand crept up to the beginnings of a black eye on his face. "...ow ... he hit me. He hit me!" he cried out in disbelief.
"Where did he go?" Ronon demanded.
"Didn't you hear me say, 'He hit me?'" Rodney snapped.
"We must find him. Walking around in his condition-" With that, Ronon ran out of the room.
"That Neanderthal ... he could've at least waited for me to get up-" With a sigh, Rodney moved his aching body to a communication device next to Sheppard's panel. The communicator beeped when he activated it.
"Elizabeth? I think we have a problem," he said.
TBC