A/N: Usual disclaimers apply: intellectual property owned by others.

A/N: And since you put up with the long vigil, I thought I'd make the blind thing shorter...

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A Walk Through Darkness

In the time it took Carson to look up at Elizabeth and Edward, John had his hand up to his face. As he felt around his eyes, they saw him stiffen and reach the same conclusion. His hand fell stiffly by his side as he closed his eyes.

"I'm blind, right?"

Carson took a deep breath and returned to the familiar task of taking John's vitals. "Well, let's not be hasty. You have a severe concussion."

John sighed and turned his head away from where he could hear the three of them.

"What exactly do you remember?" continued Beckett.

John was quiet a minute then said, softly, "A wraith was attacking Dad and I couldn't get a shot, so I ran at it."

Beckett looked over at Edward who nodded. "That's right," said Beckett, "but that's not all. After you hit the wraith, it picked you up and threw you against a large boulder. Though you hit back first, and bruised some ribs, your head snapped back against the rock, giving you a large contusion on your occipital lobe, the part of the brain that controls vision. You immediately became unconscious and you dislocated your broken clavicle at the same time, and the broken bone ruptured your subclavian artery. We got you to surgery as quickly as possible but you didn't regain consciousness until just now."

"How long?"

"Five days, John," whispered Elizabeth.

John reached for her, and Elizabeth grabbed his hand again.

"The rest of the team?"

"We lost Williams. Alexander broke a leg."

John nodded. "So what about the blindness, Doc?"

"In cases of head trauma, some patients experience temporary blindness. . ."

"Temporary?"

"Aye, in most cases. It can be referred to as cortical blindness or occipital blindness. Either way, it is caused by the trauma to the optical pathways in the brain. Your eyes are still responding to light, but the brain's connection has been stressed. In most cases, the problem corrects itself shortly. You said you could see shadows, right?"

"Yeah. How soon is 'shortly'?"

"It depends on the injury. It could be hours to days. I just need you to be patient and let your shoulder heal. Your eyes should take care of themselves."

Beckett offered some more ice chips and John took them eagerly. "Easy does it. You haven't had anything to eat or drink in five days."

"So I assume the shoulder wound is why I can't move my left side."

"Aye, and I don't want you trying to do anything with it. It took me a long time to resection that artery, and I don't want my work messed up with your fidgeting. Now, there are some folks here who would like to say hello before they leave." Beckett looked pointedly at Elizabeth and Edward, and now Teyla who had joined them.

"John," said Elizabeth, squeezing his hand again, "it's good to have you back. We need to talk about your bad habits on easy missions."

"I was thinking we need to revise the definition of a 'walk in the park,' or at least expand it so folks will be ready for anything," finished Edward. Elizabeth stepped out of the way so he could hold John's hand. "Thanks for the save. I haven't seen a tackle that great since that 4th down save you did in high school."

"Yeah, and the wraith are just about as big as that lineman was," said John, squeezing his father's hand. It was somewhat disconcerting to talk to a shadow, but he was trying.

"I am glad to see you awake, John. Rodney and Ronon will also be glad to know you are back with us," said Teyla in her calming voice. She reached over and patted John's leg so he would know where she was.

"Don't let them get too lazy, now. Especially Rodney."

Teyla smiled. "I'll tell him you were thinking of him. I am going to meet them for breakfast now that you are awake. Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard, will you join us?"

"I think I will," said Elizabeth.

Edward Sheppard nodded and squeezed his son's hand one more time. "Hang in there, John. It should be temporary. Don't let it get to you."

John nodded. "I'll try. It's just that a blind pilot is like a lame horse. Pretty useless."

"That's enough of that," said Beckett, shooing the others away and returning to John. "As I told you, this is most likely temporary, so don't borrow trouble. Now, how are you feeling? Truthfully! Headache? Dizziness? Nausea?

"A little headache, but otherwise pretty good."

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"Um, could I get some coffee?"

"No coffee right now, but how about some juice and cereal."

"Carson, you're no fun," said John, a little of his usual personality peeking through.

"That's what all my patients say. Just rest, get a little more sleep if you can, and we'll get some breakfast here in a little bit."

"OK," said John, settling down in the bed again. As he heard Beckett walk away, he blinked his eyes, trying to distinguish between open and closed. The difference was black versus shades of dark gray, but it was there. He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping to wake up to a colorful world.

Unfortunately, a nap was not enough to address the blindness. When he woke up, his father was sitting next to him with a breakfast tray. He was only able to recognize him by his shape and the smell of the food.

"OK, I think we're going to have to work out a system to keep you fed," said Edward, who had already discussed the problem with Beckett. He placed the tray of food on a table, raised the head of the bed, and slid the table over John's lap. "Your juice is at 11 o'clock, cutlery at 3 o'clock. I decided to go easy today so all you have is a bowl of oatmeal in the middle with a muffin at 8 o'clock. We can work out a scheme for a plate later."

"Thanks, Dad," said John, finding his spoon with only one fumble, and getting his oatmeal without having to put his hand in it.

Dr. Beckett came over as John was finishing up. "I see you worked out a system," he said, beginning the usual round of checking vital signs.

"Yeah," said John, putting down his spoon as Beckett reached for his arm for the blood pressure check. "Uh, is anyone else around?"

Edward raised his eyebrows, but answered, "No, just the three of us and some nurses at the other end of the infirmary.

"Good," said John. "Carson, since I'm awake now, do you think we can dispense with the catheter?"

Carson considered a moment. "You'll have to have help to get to the bathroom, you know."

"That's OK, I'll help him."

John looked a little embarrassed. "Gee, Dad."

"John, I changed your. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, let's not go there," interrupted John, looking even redder. "I guess that's a plan then. Can we do it now? I need to go, and I could really use a shower."

"You're going to have to be helped in the shower as well. You have only one good arm, a concussion, and you're blind. And I don't want you to get the bandage wet. It would really be easier to leave things as they are."

"Carson, . . ."

"Aye, I know," said Carson, and he left to get an instrument tray.

Upon his return, it was short work dispensing with the catheter, but the trip to the bathroom was much longer.

"I hate coming out of a coma," said John to his father. "It seems to take forever to get any strength back."

They had reached the toilet, and Edward turned his back to give him some privacy, but Beckett had insisted he stay in the room. He helped John get the gown off and set him up on a chair in the shower before leaving him. Beckett brought over some scrubs.

"He's going to want these as soon as he's out of there. He hates the gowns."

"Do you blame him?" queried Edward with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye, I agree that the gowns were probably invented by sadistic or perverted doctors. Anyway, you need to keep an eye on him. He will try to do too much when he's healing, and I don't want him re-injured while his sight is in question."

"You're sure it will come back?"

"Pretty sure. This symptom isn't all that uncommon in head trauma. He may need more time given the weakness from the other wound." Beckett nodded and left the retired colonel outside the bathroom.

Edward noticed the water had stopped running some time ago, and he began to worry that John might be having trouble. Opening the door a crack, he called to him, "John, you OK in there?"

"Yeah, just a little weaker than I thought. Do you have some scrubs?"

"Yeah," said his father pushing into the room. "Beckett said you'd be looking for these." He handed the scrubs to John who was leaning on the sink, a towel around his waist. "What can I do to help you?"

"Could you hold the pants? This is difficult with only one arm let alone without sight."

Carefully, Edward helped his son into the scrub pants. They skipped the shirt and opted for the gown given the bandage still on his left arm. When John was put together, they eased back to the bed with Edward taking most of John's weight. John was so exhausted he almost immediately went to sleep. At that point, Beckett came back over.

"Good. Sleep is the best thing for him." He looked at the older man appraisingly. "You could do with some sleep yourself, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I just don't want him waking alone in the dark."

Beckett's eyebrows rose, but he didn't say anything. "I think we can get his team members to give you a break.

Edward Sheppard considered his son while he thought of the suggestion. "OK, I admit I need some rest. But please call if he needs anything."

Beckett nodded and walked away, contacting Rodney on his radio.

When Rodney showed up, the older colonel went to his quarters, cleaned up, and took a nap. He returned to the infirmary just as John was finishing some soup Ronon had brought him.

A new pattern developed in the next few days. His team still sat with him during the day, but his father began to take a greater role in his care, always managing to be around when John wanted a shower or a trip to the toilet. He concentrated on letting the ailing pilot be as self-sufficient as possible while providing help where needed. On his second day since waking up, Beckett even allowed John out of the infirmary in Edward's care, and the two walked carefully to the nearest balcony.

"The fresh air always feels better after a few days in the infirmary. I always start to feel claustrophobic in there," said John, holding his face up to the sky. He could distinguish shapes a little better in the sunlight, but everything was still a shadow with no color. He tired quickly, so they moved back to the infirmary.

Elizabeth quietly notified the SGC that Colonel Sheppard would be staying still one more week. She also still sat with him at night and tried to be present when he woke up each morning.

Everyone stayed upbeat, assuring John that the blindness was temporary. But John began to shut down.

At first it was extended silences, almost unnoticeable when Rodney was present. Then he seemed to sleep more during the day. Or at least his eyes were closed. He acknowledged his father's help, but by the fifth day he didn't even acknowledge when his team members changed shifts. He also was barely eating, a fact not unnoticed by Carson.

Elizabeth was sitting with him when he awoke on the sixth day. He had said little to anyone in the last couple of days, and she was becoming worried. She was stroking his hand as he awoke to the same gray haze and shadows. Suddenly overwhelmed with helplessness, he kept his eyes closed and turned away from her so she wouldn't see his anguish.

"Elizabeth, could you leave for a little while? Just for awhile. Oh, and please pull the curtains. I'd like a little privacy."

"Of course, John," she said, concerned at a slight quiver in his voice, but slowly disengaging her hand from his. He quickly moved his arm up over his eyes as if shielding them from the light.

As Elizabeth turned to leave, she saw Edward right behind her. He nodded to her and began pulling the privacy curtains. After she left, he looked at his son, seeing a man in emotional pain. Carefully he moved to the bed and hitched a hip on the mattress next to John.

"Elizabeth, please just leave."

"It's just me," said Edward, reaching for John's good arm.

John tried to turn his head away from his father. His voice, when he spoke, was rough. "Dad, I just. . . can't. . ."

"Come here iglet."

John pulled his arm off his eyes, staring at his father with reddened eyes. "You haven't called me that in years."

"Well, it seemed appropriate somehow," said his father, giving a gentle tug on John's arm.

John lurched into his father's embrace, burying his face in his father's neck. The term of endearment had raised a flood of memories in both men.

Captain Edward Sheppard hurried into the emergency room. He had been called at the base to come get his son who had injured himself jumping from a swing at pre-school. His wife was not available. He was still annoyed at being interrupted at work.

"Sheppard?" he said to the ER attendant.

"Are you a member of the family?"

"Yes, I'm his father."

"Curtain 3."

His irritation lasted until he saw the forlorn five-year-old on the bed. John had broken his arm, and it was now in a cast up to his elbow. His face was streaked with tears that he had obviously tried to wipe off because the streaks showed dirt from his hands. Looking up, the boy saw his father and looked even more distraught.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to get hurt. I was just. . ." he started, the tears beginning again.

"That's OK, son, let's just get out of here."

Picking up the boy, he quickly completed the paperwork and got him into the car. He still looked crestfallen, as if waiting for punishment. As he reached to start the car, Edward got an idea. So instead of going home, they went to the zoo.

"What are we doing here, Dad?" said a curious John, tears drying on his face.

"You'll see," said his father with a small smile.

After paying their entry fees, John's father took him to the aviary to see the raptor exhibit. There were falcons, hawks, and, in pride of place, bald eagles. Most especially, however, there were two tiny heads sticking over the side of a very large nest up at the top of the enclosure.

"See that, John?"

"Wow, Dad, they've got babies!" squealed John, completely forgetting about his broken arm in trying to climb on the railings.

"Yep, those are eaglets. Do you notice the mom and dad eagles are feeding them?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Why do you think that's so?"

"Well, they can't fly, yet, right?"

"And why can't they fly?"

The boy puzzled at this one for awhile. "They don't know how?"

"Well, that's partially true. They also don't have feathers yet, and the feathers allow them to fly. They'll get feathers when they are older."

"Oh, OK."

Edward Sheppard picked up his son again and turned him to face him. "You know, you are like those eaglets."

"Me?"

"Yep, you want to fly, but you're not old enough and you don't know how. I promise you that when you're grown you'll have a chance to learn to fly. But for now, please stop trying to fly off of swing sets and roof tops."

John hung his head.

"Hey, you're my eaglet. And your mother and I will take care of you until then. You have to trust us."

John looked up. His father didn't seem particularly angry. He reached over and hugged his neck.

"I'm your iglet?"

"It's eaglet, but iglet is OK, too. So, do you promise to stop with the swings and roofs?"

"Yes, Dad."

"OK, now let's look around a little more and then get home to your mom.

Edward felt his son shaking and pulled him closer, careful of his still immobilized arm.

"Dad," he whispered, "What if I never fly again?" He gripped his father more tightly as he gave in to tears of despair.

Edward, holding his son more tightly, had suspected that this possibility was at the heart of John's depression, and he was waiting for it. "John, you have to be patient. I know it seems impossible now, but Beckett is almost sure you'll see again."

John gave a watery snort. "Yeah, it's that 'almost' that's the kicker." He pulled back, wiping his face with his hand, his cheeks a faint pink with embarrassment. "They'll send me home, you know."

Edward hadn't thought of that. Now that he had seen how John fit in with the community Atlantis had become, he realized there were two sources of his pain: first, that he couldn't fly, and second, that he would be removed from a group that had become like a family to him.

"It hasn't come to that. Beckett said he wasn't going to worry for another week. Your scans were normal with just a little swelling in the injured area." He stood up from the bed. "Look, I'm going to get your breakfast. Do you need anything before I do?"

"No, I'm good, Dad," said John. "Actually, I'm not very hungry. I think I'll just try to get some more sleep."

Edward looked hard at his son, noticing the still red eyes and a slight tremble in his lip. "OK, then I'll check back in an hour or so."

John nodded and slid down in the bed. "Dad?"

"Yes, John?" said Edward, pausing before closing the curtains behind him.

"Thanks." It came out very soft, and a little quivery, but Edward could felt things might start improving now.

"Anytime, son. I'll be back soon."

John took a deep breath, or as deep as the bandages would allow. Closing his eyes against the grayness, he willed himself to sleep.

That was how Rodney found him when he came in for first watch.

TBC

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