THE WHITE ROOM...part 2
He heard his name. Different voices saying it. Some of them were loud, some were soft. Some sounded angry and some almost musical and soothing. He tried to ignore the voices. They were outside his head and the voices inside his head were loud enough. Too many voices, all vying for his attention. Crying out in waves that made his head hurt. He didn't know how to tune them out or turn them off. He tried and tried to will them away, but they wouldn't leave him. Instead they remained, a constant buzzing in his brain and he wanted to scream at them to leave him alone, but he couldn't remember how to make the sounds or form the words. So he tried to hum in his head. Silently.
There was more than sound in his head. There were images. Quicksilver and sometimes painful. Bright flashes of white, sometimes flashes of color. Sometimes red and rich and suffocating and he felt like he couldn't catch his breath. He was afraid of the red and he didn't know why and he couldn't ask anyone to explain it to him.
He recognized some of the faces and places that flashed in his head. Some were so familiar he wished he could freeze them so that he could touch them. If he could touch them then maybe they would make sense. Some of the flashes made him twitch, his body jolting in reaction to unfamiliar faces and things.
But none of that was as terrifying as the hands that touched him. Hands that moved over his body, gripping him and moving him and forcing him to do things he didn't want to do. Hands that made him cold sometimes and hot the next. Hands that didn't feel the way the voices sounded. Hands that made him want to run away.
There were other things that touched him too. Something cold touched his lips. Cold and hard and pushing against his mouth. He wanted it gone. He wanted to tell it to go away. He opened his mouth and something wet and warm trickled onto his tongue. He coughed a bit and a musical voice whispered in his ear. He didn't understand what it was saying. Then a hand touched his arm, rubbing against the grain of his skin and he wanted to pull away but his body wouldn't listen to him anymore. So he swallowed the wetness and the hand slipped away. So he swallowed again and again when the cold thing touched his mouth. Swallowing the warm wetness made him feel safe from the touch of the hand.
OoO
Rodney entered the infirmary and made his way to the curtained corner, where Sheppard was ensconced. Carson felt that Sheppard had earned the right to privacy during his present state of being. Rodney agreed with him there. It was hard to see the Colonel just lying there, eyes wide open and staring at nothing. Which was why Rodney spent most of his time in his lab, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with Sheppard. So far he had nothing, but looking for something was better than staring at his catatonic friend.
Still, he forced himself to pull aside the curtain, only to freeze as he realized Teyla was feeding Sheppard his dinner. Which consisted of broth. For the past three days it was the only thing they could get him to take, and only from Teyla's hand.
For a moment, Rodney remained where he was, watching as Teyla finished feeding Sheppard the soup. He watched as she praised him for finishing the cupful, then she wiped his mouth with a napkin and Rodney swore he saw Sheppard flinch. Or maybe it was just a muscle twitch. Or maybe Rodney's eyes were playing tricks on him. He hadn't slept all that much in the past three days and he had been staring at computer screens for most of his waking hours.
A hand touched his arm and Rodney jumped, turning to glare at Carson.
The Doc shrugged at him. "Sorry, Rodney. I didn't mean to startle you."
"Well if you wouldn't sneak up on me, I wouldn't be startled!" Rodney snapped. He wasn't angry with Carson, he was just angry and he needed to vent it somehow.
"Of course," Carson replied, smiling a strained smile, which let Rodney know that he understood. "Have you found anything?" Carson then asked, looking hopeful.
Rodney sighed and shook his head. "Nothing. You?" He silently begged Carson to say yes.
But tired eyes glimmered with sadness. "There are no changes and nothing in the medical data base. I can't explain Colonel Sheppard's present condition. Other than his catatonic state, every test I've done shows him to be in perfect health."
"Then all your stupid tests are wrong!" Rodney yelled, the sound of his voice so sharp and loud and sudden that he made himself jump.
"Rodney!" It was Teyla who hissed his name.
He stared at her, feeling guilty, but too mulishly stubborn to apologize. He looked over her shoulder at Sheppard, who hadn't moved. Or had he? Rodney studied the pale, still form, eyes traveling from the dark head to the blanket-covered legs and his eyes went wide. Sheppard's right hand was gripping the blanket in a tight fist. That was a first. But before Rodney could point it out to anyone, Carson was bustling over to Sheppard and pulling his covers down. Rodney watched Sheppard's hand go limp and felt like something important had just slipped away from him.
Carson was working on getting Sheppard out of bed. He turned to look at Rodney. "Will you help me get him to the bathroom?"
"Uh, sure," Rodney replied, moving reluctantly. He didn't want to touch Sheppard like this. It was stupid, because he knew it wasn't as if the Colonel was contagious and Rodney would catch whatever was causing his condition, but it spooked him to see Sheppard so still and child like. It was creepier still to see how obediently he obeyed a simple touch command. Like being led to the bathroom and letting Carson guide him into performing bodily functions. Rodney also knew that Ronon had taken Sheppard for a shower yesterday, basically stripping down with him and washing him up. The Sheppard before Rodney was like a life-sized doll, just waiting to be positioned however a person liked. This Sheppard wasn't the man Rodney had come to think of as his best friend. A fact he'd never openly admit to anyone, least of all to Sheppard, but Rodney believed the Colonel knew it was implied and that he might even feel the same way about Rodney.
"Come now, Colonel," Carson was saying, drawing Rodney out of his reverie. So, together, they eased Sheppard towards the bathroom.
Rodney waited outside for Carson to do his thing with Sheppard. He paced as he waited, feeling frustrated about everything and everyone at this moment. A few moments later, Carson guided the Colonel back out and they brought him back to bed. Rodney let Carson get him settled in, feeling useless as he paced again. When Sheppard was lying back against the pillows, covered up and staring at nothing, Rodney found himself watching his right hand, willing the Colonel to make a fist again. But nothing happened.
Carson startled Rodney again but touching his arm. "Are you all right?" he queried, looking worried.
"I'm fine!" Rodney snapped, even though he wasn't. All things considered, how could he be? He locked eyes with Carson. "How do we fix Sheppard?" He prayed the Doc had an answer for him, even though Rodney knew he wouldn't.
"I wish I knew," Carson replied, sounding as frustrated as Rodney felt. "Elizabeth is still searching the data base and I know she's been in contact with Earth. At this point there's nothing we can do but be patient."
An angry retort was on the tip of Rodney's tongue, but he swallowed it down. Carson didn't deserve his ire. The problem was that there was no one he could blame. What was happening to Sheppard didn't make sense. It's like it just happened. And what made it worse was that if something out of the ordinary had happened to cause this, which it must have done, only Sheppard could tell them what it was. Only he couldn't do that, not in a present state. Which meant they were left in the dark, with no clue where to find the light switch. Which made Rodney all the more upset with himself because he was a genius and he should be able to find a different way to shed light on the problem, so to speak. But he was at a loss and that grated on him. He and Sheppard had something of a tally going on saving each other's lives. It was Rodney's turn to step up to the plate, but he was swinging at air. And, god, he was beyond tired if he was thinking in sports euphemisms. Sheppard was rubbing off on him in a bad way.
Another touch to his arm and Rodney frowned at Carson. "What?"
"Get some sleep," Carson said in a kindly tone, but one that was laced in steel. He wasn't making a suggestion so much as giving an order. "You won't be much help to the Colonel if you collapse."
"Fine, whatever," Rodney replied, his tone lacking his usual snap. He was too tired to be angry any more. Maybe it would be best just to get some sleep. Maybe the answer to Sheppard's problem would come to him in a dream or something. It was about the only thing they hadn't tried, and Rodney was getting desperate.
With one final look at Sheppard, and a hopeful glance at his right hand, which was still against the blanket, Rodney heaved a sigh and walked away.
OoO
The voices in his head were getting louder. Too loud, it made his head hurt. More images flashed in his head, quick-silver flashes that he shouldn't have been able to comprehend, but it was as if the images were burning themselves into his mind's eye. He saw people fighting, even as the voices got louder and more angry. He could feel the anger and the hatred, as if it was a part of him. As if it were burrowing it's way into his soul. He saw pools of red, wet and heavy and suddenly slick against his skin. His hands were drenched in the warm wetness and the horror of it propelled him into motion.
He didn't hear the outside voices yelling at him.
He was tangled in something. Something rope like twisting around him, tangling his limbs. His red soaked hands stained all the other colors. White fading into red. The red so bright it hurt his eyes and he shut them hard. It made everything dark, too dark, and he stumbled in the darkness trying to shut off the voices that were screaming at him, inside and out. He had to run away from them. He had to hide. Panic washed over him, then something touched him and he pushed it away and he started running.
Carson was stunned when Sheppard suddenly launched himself out of bed. One minute ago the man had been completely still and unresponsive, and now he was stumbling around, tangled in his IV lines, and Carson ran forward wanting to help him. To calm him. To his surprise, the Colonel's eyes were closed and his breathing was harsh. He moved jerkily, as if his body was resisting against the motion, so Carson reached out to him, touching Sheppard on the shoulder. Only to find himself shoved away, then Sheppard was running towards the door.
Tapping his radio, Carson was about to call for help when help walked in the door in the form of Ronon and Elizabeth. Carson started to shout to Ronon, but the Satedan had already grabbed John, holding him fast even when the Colonel started fighting against him and screaming.
"What's he saying?" Carson asked, as he ran to a side drawer and removed a syringe filled with a sedative. He had learned to keep a few of them at the ready.
Elizabeth didn't answer. She was frozen to the spot, staring at Sheppard and looking horrified as Ronon wrestled him to the floor, pinning him beneath his heavier weight.
Sheppard fought him, still screaming, eyes scrunched closed, head banging against the floor.
Carson ran to them, gripping one bicep to still it as best he could, then plunging the needle into sweat sheened skin. It took a moment for Sheppard's motions to grow sluggish, then still, and Carson felt exhausted by the time Ronon was able to lift Sheppard and put him back to bed.
"What happened?" the Satedan asked, as he laid Sheppard gently down.
"Good question," Carson replied. He paused to toss the empty syringe in the sharps container, then he joined Ronon at Sheppard's side. He studied the blood dripping from the back of the Colonel's left hand and pulled a square of gauze from his lab coat pocket. Tearing open the packet, Carson held it to the wound. "He was just lying there as he had been and then he just jumped out of bed. No warning, no nothing. Then he seemed terrified and I tried to calm him down and that's when he made a run for it. It's a good thing you showed up." Carson looked at Ronon, who nodded.
Elizabeth had slowly made her way over, and she stared at John as she reached them. "He was screaming in Ancient," she whispered.
Carson nodded. "I figured as much, since I didn't understand a bloody word of it. What was he saying?"
"No more death," Elizabeth replied. "And something like, 'you will destroy the future'. 'The last thing he said was 'leave me alone'."
"Sounds bad," Ronon stated.
Truer words were never spoken, Carson thought. "Well, he should be out for a few hours and I'm going to look at his reaction as a good sign. With a bit of luck, he'll wake up and be fine."
Ronon visibly brightened. "He won't lay there and stare at the ceiling anymore?"
"I hope not," Carson said, with all the sincerity he could muster.
But it proved to be a false hope.
OoO
Elizabeth stared at everyone who was gathered in her office. What she had to tell them would not be easy. She had just finished speaking with Jack O'Neill, barely an hour ago, and now it was time to face the truth.
"John isn't getting better," she said to her audience.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Ya think?" he mocked, then he grimaced and fell silent, perhaps regretting his tone.
Elizabeth studied him a moment, then let her gaze roam over Carson, Teyla, and finally Ronon. They all looked anxious, worried and a bit angry. She wondered if the anger was for her. She figured they'd be furious with her once she said her piece. "I spoke to General O'Neill," she began. "He's at Cheyenne Mountain, filling in for General Landry while he pitches the needs of the SGC to the International Committee. I told him everything we know in regards to Colonel Sheppard and his present condition."
"And?" Carson prompted, when she fell suddenly silent.
"And he agrees that John should be sent to Earth." There, Elizabeth had dropped the bomb, now she waited for the fall out.
It didn't take long. Ronon looked furious, Teyla looked shocked, Rodney was on his feet and shouting before Elizabeth could check on Carson.
Moving to confront Elizabeth, Rodney practically got in her face. "You have to give us more time! You can't just ship him away like that! What's wrong with you?"
"What good is more time?" Elizabeth argued, even though she shared Rodney's sentiments. But this wasn't about what they wanted. It was about what was best for John. "We don't know what's wrong with John, and we haven't been able to help him. I think sending him to Cheyenne Mountain is the right thing to do."
"You can't be serious?" Rodney stared at her in disbelief.
"Elizabeth is doing the right thing," Carson interjected, and found himself on the end of Rodney's glare.
McKay moved closer to shake his finger in Carson's face now. "How can you say that? What's the matter with you? Did you even read the Hippocratic oath? Do no harm, Carson! Sending him away is doing harm!"
Carson was on his feet, glaring right back at McKay. "What would you have me do, Rodney?" he snapped. "There's nothing more to do on my end and you haven't come up with anything. Do you think it's helping the Colonel to spend his time in restraints while we all sit around and stare at him? At least at the SGC he wouldn't be tied down."
"No, of course not!" Rodney shot back, not giving any ground. "There he'd just be locked up in a padded room. That's so much better!"
"What do you suggest then, Rodney?" Elizabeth challenged him. She understood his anger, but she had to make him see reason. This wasn't about them, it was about John. "Can you do anything to help John? Because I asked for three days. If we can't help Colonel Sheppard by then, then we have no choice but to send him to Earth. But if you have a way to help him, then please...tell me what it is." She heard a bit of pleading seep into her tone. She wanted Rodney to be able to fix John. She wanted the head of the Military back. More than that, she wanted her friend back.
Rodney stared at Elizabeth for a long moment, then he turned and, shoulders slumped, left the room.
Elizabeth said nothing more as the others followed suit. When she was alone, she closed her eyes against the bitter sting of tears she couldn't allow herself to shed.
OoO
The voices were quieter now, almost soothing. John could close his eyes now and not be afraid. He knew something was wrong, but in this moment it didn't matter. He wanted to slip away into the shadows that danced in his head, but something kept him tethered in the bright, light, whiteness of the other place. So he rocked against the bindings, whispering softly to the voices, and hoping no one would hear him.
THE END...of part 2