THE WHITE ROOM...part 20
John enjoyed his ice cream. Even though it was only a few bites, it made him feel cooler. He enjoyed watching his team eat ice cream and especially the looks on Teyla and Ronon's faces as they tried it for the first time.
The enjoyment ended when he realized he needed to use the bathroom. Ronon must have been watching him closely, because he set aside his dish and crossed the room, leaning over John to ask,
"Bathroom?"
"Yes." John was pleased with himself for remembering, and using, the right word. He wasn't so pleased when Ronon helped him to his feet and his knees buckled. Then there was the head rush when he was swept off his feet and into the Satedan's arms. He hated being so weak and having proof of how much strength and weight he had lost. Proof in how easily Ronon carried him. As if he weighed no more than a child.
Once in the bathroom, Ronon settled John on his feet. "It was quicker this way and I thought you might really have to go. It's been a while since you last went."
John did really have to go so he didn't argue the point. And it wasn't as if he'd be able to find the words to do so anyway. Instead he focused on the simple act of relieving himself without falling over. Or, what should have been a simple act, if only he wasn't so unsteady on his feet. Or so dizzy.
Once finished he staggered over to the sink. He washed his hands and splashed cool water on his face. It felt heavenly for a moment, but then he felt himself shivering. His head and body ached in a way that made him feel a bit nauseous and he swallowed hard.
Ronon must have been watching him closely because he was scooping John up and returning him to bed without a word.
John felt himself being settled down gently, which he was grateful for. Then Carson's face was hovering over him and he didn't remember the doctor being there a few minutes ago. John wondered if he had zoned out.
"I'm going to take your temp again, Colonel," Carson stated, gripping John's head and pushing the thermometer into his ear.
It hurt and John wanted to pull away and curl up in a ball. He heard a beep that sounded loud in his head, making it ache more, then Carson's voice.
"It's going up on us," said the doctor. "I was afraid of that."
"What do we do to help him?" Ronon asked.
John didn't listen to the reply. He let himself slide into darkness. He didn't feel the hands that smoothed cool rags over his skin. He didn't feel the pin prick in his arm as Carson gave him another shot. He didn't see the worried faces of his friends. John knew only cold dreams and black shadows.
OoO
Elizabeth was worried about John and she said as much to Carson, who had stopped by her office. "Is he going to be all right?"
"I hope so." Carson was slumped into the chair across from her desk, looking worn and worried. "His fever keeps edging up, in spite of the antibiotics. Ronon and Teyla are tireless though. They keep cooling him down. If his fever doesn't level off soon, I'll consider trying a cooling bath."
"He'll hate that," Elizabeth stated, shuddering a bit at the thought.
Carson looked sympathetic. "I know, but it may need to be done. His system was a mess and it's not really a surprise he's gotten sick like this. I had hoped to avoid it though. He was just starting to make some progress. The set back may end up having more of an effect on him than the actual illness."
Elizabeth realized the truth of that, but at this moment all she felt was relief. The way Carson was talking made it sound like he was positive that John would get through this okay, and that was all that mattered to her now. "We'll help him deal when the time comes," Elizabeth said softly.
"Aye," Carson mumbled.
"Will you be moving him back into the infirmary?" Elizabeth was actually surprised he hadn't done that already.
Carson sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and looking like he wanted nothing more than to doze off right there in the chair. "It was my first instinct," he allowed. "But Rodney has put up a good argument for letting the Colonel stay in their room. I have everything I need to take care of him there already, and two nurses assigned. Unless complications arise, I'll let him stay put."
Elizabeth smiled, imagining the argument Rodney might have used, and easily hearing the tone it would have been delivered in. "Maybe it will help John to know he's with his friends." She knew, as everyone did, how much he had hated feeling on display in the infirmary.
"It might at that," Carson conceded, as he pushed himself out of the chair. "I need to go back and check on him. I'll keep you updated on his condition."
"Thank you." Elizabeth watched Carson shuffle out the door. When she was alone again she let her head rest on her folded arms as she gave a little prayer. Just once she wished something could go easy for John Sheppard. The man had earned it tenfold.
OoO
He hated being helpless. Hated that he was too weak to do anything but lie around and sleep. When the claxons went off, they startled him to the point where he nearly fell out of bed. He steadied himself and reached for his radio. He tried contacting Weir, then Rodney when she didn't answer. Then the rest of his team. Nothing. The claxons echoed in his head, making it ache, even as fear coiled in his gut, making him feel sick.
Forcing himself up and out of bed, John practically crawled over to the wheel chair that was parked against the wall. He got into it, loathing it, but knowing it was the only way he'd get anywhere. He was too weak to walk. It was an effort just to roll himself across the room to his gun, only to realize he didn't have any bullets. No one trusted him enough to let him have a clip.
Throwing his gun on the bed, John wheeled himself out of the room and down the corridor, wincing at the claxons continuing blare. He connected with Atlantis and she listened and suddenly the noise was gone. There was quiet falling around him, shrouding him as he made his slow way down the hall.
He turned a corner and froze. The corridor before him was strewn with dead bodies. He couldn't make his way any further because of them. Although he tried to move forward, to see their faces, his hands becoming stained with blood from the wheels of his chair.
"Sheppard!"
His head came up and his eyes widened as he stared at Kolya's face. "No!" John whispered. This couldn't be happening. Kolya was dead.
But he wasn't dead, he was stepping over the bodies, stepping over Weir and Teyla and Rodney's bodies, to get to him. "You did this, Sheppard," Kolya whispered, as he knelt down in front of John. "You killed them all."
"NO!" John screamed his denial. Screamed it as he reached out to choke Kolya, only to stare in horror at the blood that slicked his hands. The blood of his friends.
"John!"
He came awake abruptly, distantly realizing that it had only been a dream. But the bile rising in his throat and gagging him was very real. He felt hands shifting him upright, then something cool was pressed against his chin just in time for him to empty his stomach. It made his head pound and he was grateful when the retching finally ended and he was pressed back into the soft pillows and something cool and wet wiped over his heated face. After a few minutes he was able to open his eyes. "Aperte," John croaked, then he felt a rush of frustration at using the wrong word.
But someone understood him. Teyla. She held a glass of water for him as he took a sip and rinsed his mouth.
"How are you feeling, Colonel?" Carson was asking.
He wanted to tell him the truth, that he felt like shit, but he couldn't find the right words. So he shook his head, whimpering as pain spiked in his temples, then he tried to curl up into a ball. He was cold and aching and frustrated and he wanted to hide from everything and everyone.
He got his wish. John felt a pin prick in his shoulder, then everything faded to black.
OoO
Rodney stared at Carson, who had called a conference in the living room of the quarters he was now sharing with his team. Weir was present as well, and Rodney had a bad feeling about what Carson was going to say. He wasn't wrong.
"I think it would be best if we moved Colonel Sheppard back to the infirmary for a time," Carson announced.
"Why?" It was Teyla who asked, and she looked ready to put up a fight.
Carson sighed, eyed each of them in turn, then replied. "The Colonel is getting worse and he's going to need round the clock care."
Ronon stepped forward, looking determined. Which was a scary look on him. Scary and rather menacing. "We can do whatever needs to be done," he rumbled.
"He needs his vitals checked and medications," Carson began.
"All of which you have here and you've already assigned nurses, and you showed Teyla how to take vitals," Rodney interjected. Because, no way in hell was he letting Carson take John away from them.
Elizabeth waved her hand to cut Rodney off. "Maybe it's for the best, for now," she stated quietly.
Rodney shook his head at her. "It's not. It's just going to make things worse for Sheppard. He's going to feel like he's losing ground." Rodney knew he was speaking the truth, he knew that's how Sheppard would feel, because it was how Rodney was feeling at this moment. If Sheppard went back to the infirmary, it would feel like they had failed somehow. He knew Ronon and Teyla felt the same way. "It's bad enough he's sick now, after everything else he's been through. You can't take him back and make him feel like he's starting over again."
"Rodney is correct." Teyla spoke up when Rodney paused for a breath. "John has suffered much and he has worked hard to get to where he was before becoming ill. To send him back and away from us will make it worse for him. I ask that you let him stay, that you let us take care of him. We can do it."
"I admit, you've been doing well so far," Carson allowed, including them all in his praise. "But there could be complications. And we may need to get him into a cooling bath to reduce his temperature."
Ronon grunted. "And you'll need my help with that anyway, so what's the difference if we do it here or in the infirmary?"
Rodney found himself smiling as the others stepped up to support Sheppard. Not that he expected anything less from them. They were a team, after all. "Sheppard will get better care from us," Rodney declared, shouldering over to Carson to confront him face to face. "We're already keeping vigil over him, so I think we've earned the right to continue taking care of him. I damn well know I've earned that right."
"He has a point," Elizabeth interjected, resignation in her tone as she locked eyes with first Rodney, then Carson. "Unless you think that being here will be detrimental to John's health?"
"No, I don't think that per se," Carson replied. "I just...it's just...well, it's not going to be easy on them."
Ronon rolled his eyes in a perfect imitation of Sheppard. "What is easy around here? We want to do it. We want to take care of him."
Carson sighed then nodded. "All right, then. But you're going to have to keep careful watch."
"Like we haven't been doing that already!" Rodney hissed, feeling a bit put out by Carson's comment. He had been watching out for Sheppard since this tragedy had begun, and he was going to see it through till the end. He wasn't walking away until Sheppard was one hundred percent himself again. On the day Sheppard led them back through the gate on a mission, then Rodney would know his work here was done.
"Dr. Beckett?" It was Ann, one of the nurse's assigned to Sheppard. She hovered in the doorway of the living area, looking worried.
Carson went to her immediately. "What's wrong?"
Ann made a face. "His temp is rising, doctor. It's just over 104 now."
"I was afraid of that." Carson slid by her, entering John's room.
The others were close on his heels.
Rodney stared at Sheppard, who was mumbling about being cold as he writhed on the bed, trying to roll up in the blanket. He looked thin and pale and fragile in a way that scared Rodney half to death. Sheppard wasn't supposed to be fragile. He was tough and strong and he could survive anything. A fact Rodney clung to in this moment.
Carson frowned as he turned to Ronon. "I'm going to get the tub running, then I'll need you to help me strip him and put him into the water. We don't want the water too cold, but it'll still be uncomfortable. You'll have to hold him in; he's not going to want to stay on his own."
Ronon looked grim but determined. "I'll do whatever it takes," he promised.
Rodney had moved to John's side and he reached out and gripped the thin shoulder, feeling the heat that emanated from Sheppard's skin even through the gown he was wearing. "You're going to beat this," he whispered, fiercely. "You'll beat this, Sheppard!" Rodney wouldn't accept anything less.
OoO
Sheppard did beat the fever, but it took two days of hell to get him through it. Two days of cooling him off with ice packs and cold wipes. Two days of changing the sheets and his gown. Two days of holding him down when he got combative during moments when he hallucinated. But the convulsions were the worst of it.
Rodney didn't sleep much, and neither did the others, which included Elizabeth, Carson and two nurses. But they felt a weary satisfaction when John's temperature finally slid down to 98.8 and stayed there. After two hours of fifteen minute checks, Elizabeth and the nurses left to get some sleep. The others flopped into nearby chairs, watching over Sheppard who finally looked peaceful. They all dozed off until Rodney heard someone call his name. Or, rather, call for Azur. He was out of his chair and over to Sheppard's bedside in an instant, ignoring his body's aches and pains.
"Sheppard?" Rodney was relieved when green-hazel eyes latched onto his face. "You okay?"
"W-wa..wa-ter," John whispered, the single word exhausting him. But he stayed awake long enough to take a sip and to have Carson fuss over him when Rodney called for the Doc.
Carson looked satisfied when he'd finished. "Get some sleep, Colonel," he said, patting Sheppard on the shoulder. "You're on the mend now."
Rodney watched as Sheppard's eyes closed and his breathing deepened. "Is he really okay now?" he asked, his voice quavering with hope.
"Aye, I believe so," Carson replied. "Which means we can all get some sleep now."
"Should not one of us watch over him?" Teyla queried.
Ronon offered. "I'm a light sleeper," he reminded them.
Rodney was more than willing to take him up on it. He was so tired he was swaying on his feet. "I'll be over there if you need me," he stated, pointing to the couch in the corner. He stumbled over to it, did a face plant, and let himself drift into a welcome darkness. Where he dreamed about beating Sheppard in chess, four games in a row.
OoO
Music woke him up. The sound of singing. A soft and melodious string of words that echoed in his head. He knew the voice.
Opening his eyes, John turned his head towards the sound and saw Teyla sitting next to his bed. Her eyes were closed as she sang, but she must have sensed his eyes on her, because she fell silent and was suddenly looking back at him.
"John, how are you feeling?" she queried, as she rose and moved to his side.
He had to search for the word, and felt pleased when he found it. "Better," he whispered, but that simple word drained him. Exhaustion washed over John, pulling at him. But he noticed a few things before submitting to the darkness. He was hungry and he had a catheter. He would discuss those issues later though. For now he let darkness claim him.
Only to wake again and learn that another day had passed.
Teyla was still with him, smiling warmly. She offered him a sip of water, holding the cup when John's hand shook too much to keep it steady. "How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Better." It was easier to remember the word this time. And it was the truth. He did feel better. Worn out, but not achy and chilled, or too hot. What he did feel was gritty. "Shower?" He turned it into a question that had more than a bit of pleading in it.
"Carson will not allow it right now," Teyla replied, looking apologetic. "But I can wash you a bit." She made the offer without a hint of shyness.
John blushed enough for the both of them. He felt stiff and gritty and dirty. He hated the invasive tubes, hated how damp the sheets felt against his skin. He needed to be clean. "Please?" It was out and out begging and he didn't care.
Then, before Teyla could respond, the room was filled with people. It was easier for him to remember their names this time. John stared at each in turn as Ronon, Rodney and Carson surrounded his bed.
"He wants to take a shower," Teyla explained to Beckett.
"I see." Carson made a face, then bent over John. "I'm afraid you're not strong enough for that, son. Not yet. Maybe a bath tomorrow."
But John couldn't let it go. He felt like his skin was crawling and he hurt and he just wanted to be clean. "Please, a heili," he begged, mixing up his languages and not caring.
Rodney was listening intently, and he tapped Carson on the arm. "He aches," he translated for John. "Wouldn't a hot bath be therapeutic for that? I realize I'm no doctor but..."
"He's not strong enough, Rodney!" Carson protested.
"I could help him," Ronon interjected.
John looked from Rodney, to Ronon, to Carson. He would let Ronon manhandle him like a baby if it would get him his bath.
Carson glared at them all, then let his shoulders slump in defeat. "All right, if the Colonel doesn't mind the help."
"Don't mind," John whispered, when Carson's eyes locked on his face.
"Fine, then I'll remove the tubing," Carson stated. "The rest of you need to clear out for a few minutes."
John was glad to hear that. He hated how invasive all the stuff connected to him felt. He closed his eyes and even drifted off a bit as the IV and catheter were removed. He came back to himself when he felt strong arms lifting him.
Ronon lifted John with ease, cradling him against his chest and grinning. "Teyla ran your water. You ready?"
"Ready," John echoed. He felt a bit embarrassed being carried, especially since Ronon did it with such ease, but he blocked out the feeling. He didn't' even protest being stripped by Ronon, nor being settled into the steamy hot water. It felt like bliss. He was able to get most of his body washed before his arms gave out. When big hands washed his hair, John found himself relaxing into the ministrations. Just this once. He didn't like this, but he knew it couldn't be helped.
"You'll be stronger soon," Ronon stated, as he rinsed. "For now, it's okay to let us help you."
John knew that, but it was nice to hear. "How …sick?" he asked, not sure of the other words.
But Ronon understood what he was asking. "Very sick. You were out of it for a few days, and hallucinating and at one point you went into something called convulsions. Everyone was worried. But I knew you'd make it. You're tougher than you look." Ronon was grinning as he said that.
"Thanks." John found himself grinning back, before letting his eyes drift closed. Then Ronon was lifting him out, drying him off, and he was blessedly being dressed in scrubs. Stubbornly, he insisted on trying to walk out the door, but only managed two steps before his knees buckled. But at least it was a start.
A moment later John found himself gently settled onto clean, fresh, sheets. He felt one hundred percent better. The water had made him feel cleaner and less achy, the hot water having leeched away some of his stiffness. Then Carson was fussing over him, Rodney was pushing him to take a few sips of soup. Teyla was asking if he needed anything and Ronon was standing close by keeping watch.
John ended up falling asleep, drifting into dreams.
Atlantis woke him from his dreams and he was grateful to her. He had been dreaming about things that felt familiar, but he knew they weren't his memories and it made him feel something of a voyeur. But as he came more awake, he realized his heart was thudding hard in his chest and that he felt pain. Not his pain, though. A deeper pain, sharp and cold and aching.
"Lantis..." he whispered. She was in agony. He didn't know how to help her. He tried to connect to her but she pushed at him, wanting to keep him away. He didn't understand why, but he knew he needed to help her somehow.
Pushing aside the covers, John started to slide out of bed when hands gripped his arms and pushed him back.
Rodney was hovering over him. "What's wrong, Sheppard?"
"Lantis," he repeated. "Alevia, Azur."
"Hurt?" Rodney echoed in English. "What do you mean?"
John wanted to scream in frustration because he didn't have the words to explain. Not that it mattered in this moment, because Atlantis suddenly screamed in his head, and it was his own cry that pierced his ear drums a heartbeat later.
THE END...of part 20