Panic flared in John when he realized that Carly was staring at him with wide eyes that glimmered with terror. She was afraid of him. He released her and started to slide out of bed as she backed away from him. "I...I'm sorry...sorry..." John whispered. "It was...I was dreaming." He could still see images in his head, yet it was more what he felt than what he saw that lingered with him. That and the sense of loss. Of being disconnected from something that he couldn't explain. It almost hurt.
Carly was nodding at him, trying to rein in her fear. Trying to shift into caretaker mode and the nurse in her won out when John's knees buckled. She jumped forward to grab his arm.
Now he was the one flinching away from her. He was terrified of hurting her again. Terrified because the reaction to lash out before hadn't come from him. "I'm okay!" John hissed, pulling away from her. He needed to get out of here. It felt as if the walls were closing in on him.
"Colonel!"
John froze in his attempts to yank the tape off the back of his hand. His IV had already pulled out and blood was dripping onto the floor. He ignored it and turned to see Beckett eyeing him with concern. "I scared her," John whispered, pointing at Carly with his good hand.
Surprisingly, she stood up for him. "He startled me is all. He was thrashing about and I got worried and I woke him from a bad dream. It's fine." She moved to John as if to take his arm again.
He stepped away and looked at Beckett. "I'd like to go back to my room now."
"Let's take care of your hand first," Carson countered, reaching out and gripping John's wrist. He held firm when John tried to tug away.
"Then I can go?" John asked, and he was almost begging. Almost. He tried again to tug free of Beckett's grip but the Scotsman had an iron hold on him, steering him back to the bed.
Carson was pressing a gauze pad to the back of John's hand to staunch the blood. He was focused on that for a moment before replying. "We'll see. Get back on the bed for me, Colonel."
John did as he was told, feeling his heart thudding against his lungs. He felt hyped up and anxious, like the time he'd accidentally taken a double dose of heavy painkillers for a tooth infection. It wasn't a good kind of feeling high. His body felt taut and wired and he wanted only to break away and flee. But John made himself remain still as Beckett peeled away the IV tape then took care of the small wound on his hand. Once it was bandaged, John asked again, "Can I go now?"
"Soon." Carson was urging him back against the pillows and reaching for the covers. "I want to keep you under observation for a bit."
"I'm not sick," John insisted, and he was getting tired of being treated like something was wrong with him.
Carson was watching him through a narrowed gaze. "But you are agitated and pale and you seem to forget that what you did in healing us...it took a lot out of you."
John cursed under his breath. "I didn't heal you!"
"Fine. But you were the conduit and it wore you out." Carson patted his shoulder. "Rest. I'll have a tray brought. If you're doing well by tonight I'll release you to your room."
"Okay." John wanted to go now but he knew better than to argue the point. He shifted about, trying to get comfortable and closed his eyes. He must have dozed off because a soft voice pulled him out of a shadowy darkness. John blinked his eyes open and focused on Carly's smiling face. But it was a hesitant smile. John winced. He felt bad about scaring her. "I'm sorry about what happened," he blurted out. "I didn't mean to scare you. Did I hurt you?"
Carly shook her head as she moved forward to set the tray she was holding on the tray table. "I'm fine, Colonel. You just startled me as much as I think I startled you."
John nodded, relieved that she was okay. "Yeah...I guess you did." He eyed the heavily laden tray. "Beckett doesn't expect me to eat all of this, does he?" There was enough food for three people.
"Eat as much as you can," Carly advised. "Dr. Beckett left instructions that if you clean your plate you can leave." She smiled at John. "If you eat enough I'm willing to fudge for you."
"Thanks." John appreciated it more than she knew. So he grabbed his fork and started eating. He had to give up halfway though so he gave Carly puppy dog eyes when she came for the tray. "Can I go?"
She nodded. "Go. I'll tell Carson you did good. Just make sure you eat later."
John was already out of bed. "I will. Thanks." He gave her a smile then headed for the door. The moment he reached his room he stripped and took a shower. John knew he was supposed to be resting, but he was tired of doing that and it was making him feel sluggish. So he dressed in his uniform, moving carefully against the pull in his ribs, then he settled in before his laptop. He had a report to write.
Two hours later John jumped when a knock sounded. "Come in!" he called out, expecting it to be Beckett. To his surprise it was Ronon. "What's up?" John asked, and he grinned when Ronon looked up at the ceiling. "It's just an expression," John explained. "Did you want something?"
"Just checking on you," Ronon replied.
"Did Beckett send you?" John countered.
Ronon shook his head. "No. You okay?"
John wondered at how to answer that. He went for being as honest as he could. "Sure," he drawled. "How are you feeling? No ill effects?"
"Not sure." Ronon was pacing the room. "Thanks...for what you did. Beckett told us how you healed us."
"Yeah...and now he thinks I'm crazy because of it," John retorted. He was still angry at the fact that no one believed him about the twins.
Ronon looked surprised. "Why would he think that?"
John eyed him with suspicion. "Didn't they tell you about the twins I saw? The ones who actually saved you guys."
"No."
"Oh." John hadn't expected that. "Well...I'll tell you then. I saw these twins, a boy and a girl. About 15 years old. They told me they could help me get out and get help but when you guys were so close to dying they said they could help me save you. They turned into this red mist and that's how I healed you." John realized he was leaving out a lot of details but he was mostly interested in watching Ronon's reaction.
Ronon's expression was closed off. "I dreamed about a red mist last night."
John stood up and approached him. "You did? What else?"
"That's it." Ronon was succinct.
"Do you think I'm crazy?" John asked, point blank. He needed to know how his team felt about him. He already knew Rodney sided with Beckett, but John was willing to cut Rodney some slack. He hadn't been there so he was just going by what Beckett had told him.
One corner of Ronon's mouth quirked. "Do you think you're crazy?" he countered.
John shook his head. "No."
"That's all that matters," Ronon said sagely. "I've gotta go. I'm training with Lorne."
"Kick his ass good," John said, grinning.
Ronon grinned. "I will. Let me know when you feel up to it and I'll kick yours too." With that he was gone.
John scowled at the door then smiled. He had trained with Ronon once already and he swore he could still feel the bruises. He stretched, carefully, then decided he needed some fresh air. A walk would do him good then maybe he would see if Elizabeth wanted to grab a bite to eat. Maybe he could talk to her and get her to see reason in a more relaxed atmosphere.
So John headed out, weaving through the corridors towards the south pier. There was a balcony there that he had declared his own. But he didn't make it there before running into McKay. Literally. John made an 'oof' sound as he hit the wall hard. One hand came up to press against his sore ribs.
"Watch where you're --" Rodney broke off when he realized who he'd collided with. "Colonel...oh...are you alright? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine," John managed to grit out. The pain in his side was easing up and he could catch his breath. "Did I hurt you?"
Rodney snorted. "Hardly. But what are you doing out here? Aren't you supposed to be resting?"
John glared at him. "I'm taking a walk, is that okay with you?" He realized he was being too snappy but he was tired of being treated like an invalid.
"Do what you want," Rodney countered with a shrug.
"What are you doing out here?" John shot back. "Isn't your lab the other way?"
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes it is. But there were power fluctuations that I was checking on."
John tensed up at that. Security of Atlantis was his responsibility. "Is anything wrong?" he prompted.
"No. Everything is fine. I took care of the problem." Rodney looked slighted.
"Of course you did," John replied, then he made to step around Rodney only to stop and blurt out, "Do you think I made up the twins?"
Rodney looked surprised by the question. His mouth opened then closed a few times before he cleared his throat and replied, "I don't know. Beckett thinks you were hallucinating."
John sighed. "I know what Beckett thinks. I'm asking you what you think?"
"I wasn't there," Rodney shot back. "I don't know what to think. You were sick but it's not like you to see things. I don't have enough scientific data to make a determination one way or another."
"Guess that's fair enough," John allowed. He wouldn't put McKay on the spot since he hadn't been there. He nodded at Rodney then turned and walked away. It didn't take long to reach his balcony and John sucked in lungfuls of air. He felt as if he could breathe again. Moving to the railing, John was content to simply look out over Atlantis for a time. But then he felt anxiety creeping up on him. It settled into his stomach, twisting his insides until John felt like he was going to be sick. Even though he was out in the open, the air began to feel heavy, settling over him like a wet blanket until it became hard to breathe.
Bolting for the doors, John ran into the corridor. He felt panicked. Someone was there. Someone was chasing him. He knew who it had to be. The Wraith. The Wraith were in the city. No...no...it was just one Wraith. Bob. Yeah...he knew Bob. John ran for the nearest transporter, cursing himself for leaving his room without his radio or his gun. But that was okay...the armory was close by and he would need to be heavily armed.
"Sonofabitch!" John cursed, slamming his palms against the transporter doors. He wanted out of here. The damn thing was moving too slow. He had to protect Atlantis. "Come on...come ON!" John was ready to kick the damn thing when it opened. John started running, ignoring the pull in his side. Time was of the essence. He ducked left, ran faster and was almost to the infirmary when the feeling of anxiety rushed out of him like a damn springing a leak. John felt his legs buckle and he slid to the floor.
"Bob is dead," he whispered. He knew that. He had killed the bastard himself. Bob was dead and they had shields up. There were no Wraith in the city. "Fuck!" John buried his face in his hands, feeling the sheen of cold sweat that slicked his skin.
How long he sat there he didn't know, but it was a while before John felt strong enough to stand up. He walked back to the transporter and stepped in. Time blurred again but suddenly he was at his room. Stumbling over to the bed, John curled up on his good side, drawing a blanket over him. He felt cold to the bone. Cold and achy and worn out. Closing his eyes, John drifted into darkness.
No more dreams. John was relieved by that. No dreams and no feelings of panic or anxiety for three days in a row. He cleared a check with Beckett, biting his lip against flinching when the man poked at his sore ribs. John faked it well enough that Beckett cleared him to light duty.
The first thing John did was check in with Weir. She tried to convince him, yet again, to talk to Heightmeyer. John blew her off and she took it well, but he knew she wasn't happy about it. Yeah, well...he wasn't too happy about the fact that she thought he was crazy and needed to see a shrink. So he left Elizabeth's office feeling a bit uptight. John decided to visit Zelenka.
The Czech was busy in lab two but he invited John in and listened, with rapt attention, when John told him about the dreams and what he saw.
"Can you describe the lab?" Zelenka prompted.
"Sort of. It's kind of blurry." John closed his eyes and tried to conjure up the images. "It...it kinda reminds me of the labs here. The symbols and the style of it. But...bigger." John opened his eyes, cautiously, uncertain if he wanted to see Zelenka's reaction.
But Zelenka looked excited. "Could very well be Ancient design," he said, grinning. "I believe they spread out from Atlantis. They explored other worlds as we do. I will check our database and get back to you. Yes?"
John nodded, feeling himself relax a bit. "Yes. Thank you."
"For what? I have done nothing yet." Zelenka looked surprised.
"You don't think I'm crazy," John countered. "That means more than you know."
Zelenka shrugged. "We are in whole new world, anything is possible." That said he wandered off to his laptop and began typing.
John watched for a moment then left. He felt hopeful for the first time since his return. Hopeful and hungry so he headed for the mess hall. John stepped into the transporter and found himself whistling a commercial ditty. Which got him thinking about fast food and how much he missed pizza and burgers. Smiling wistfully as the doors slid open, John stepped out of the transporter and right into somebody's fist.
The lights went out before he hit the floor.