THE WHITE ROOM...part 22
John got his shower, but it cost him. Ronon pretty much held him and washed him, which John dealt with because he was desperate to be clean. But by the time the Satedan had also dried him off and dressed him in a soft t-shirt and sweat pants, then picked him up and carried him back to bed, John was thoroughly disgruntled. Not even the soft, clean, sheets and fluffed up pillows could distract him.
Teyla seemed to understand, at a glance, what was wrong. "You must accept that you are weak, John," she said, in quiet admonition, as she ruffled his hair.
Which he knew, but it didn't make him any less angry at said weakness. "Tired of being weak," he mumbled, his eyelids heavily drooping. He was tired to the bone, but still he fought against it. He was tired of feeling like he had no control over himself any longer.
"You'll get stronger, Colonel," Carson interjected, as he gave John a quick once over. "Do you think you can stay awake long enough to eat a little more?"
"Later," John slurred, his eyes sealed shut now. Then he was drifting away on warm darkness, Atlantis soothing his way into slumber.
OoO
The next two days were spent, mostly sleeping. During waking moments, John would stumble to the bathroom, with Ronon's arm around him, then try and suck down some broth. Mostly, he just wanted to sleep. Atlantis showed him moments and images from her past, and he showed her things as well. The beauty of it being that, this time, John knew the difference in the memories. He knew which ones were his alone, and he knew he had Atlantis to thank for that. She assured him that his presence was thanks enough.
Atlantis hummed to John in a way that soothed him, and he was reluctant to leave the serenity of his slumber, but a different kind of humming rang in his ears like the annoying buzz of a mosquito. It took some time for John to realize that he knew the tuneless melody being loudly hummed close by, and he knew who was making the noise. "Rodney..." John mumbled, because his tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth.
"What?" Rodney snapped, without thinking, only to realize it was John speaking. He set aside his laptop and was by the bed in an instant. "Are you okay? Do you need Carson? Water? Bathroom?"
"Mission Impossible theme?" John questioned, slitting open his eyes and trying to smirk. He must have been somewhat successful, because Rodney made a face at him.
With a dramatic eyeroll and a fingershaking, Rodney expounded on the beauty of the Mission Impossible theme song. "Of course, the series was much better than the movies," he firmly stated.
John nodded, tried to respond, but coughed instead.
"Here, have a sip." Rodney was holding out a glass of water.
The sip helped, as did draining half the glass once the coughing stopped. Then John was pushing up against the pillows, surprised when Rodney leaned in to help him get settled. "Thank you," John replied, his voice stronger now.
Rodney shrugged. "That's what I live for," he deadpanned.
"Then your life is...complete," John shot back, with only a moment's hesitation to search for the right word. He felt proud of himself when Rodney chuckled. He felt proud and...normal. This felt normal.
"You look better," Rodney said, after they grinned at each other before falling into a awkward silence that he seemed determined to fill.
John considered. "Feel better," he allowed. The exhaustion of before had been sloughed away by three days of sleeping. He still felt weak, but he could lie to himself and say that was only because he hadn't eaten much during that time.
Rodney looked relieved. "I should probably call Carson. He made us all promise to contact him the moment you woke up long enough to say a complete sentence." As he spoke he tapped his ear piece. A moment later he confirmed that Carson was on his way.
"I need to use the bathroom." John was pleased when the sentence really did come out complete, and without hesitation.
"I should call Ronon to help you," Rodney said, reaching for his ear piece again.
John wanted to stop him, but he figured it would be better to have Ronon's help than fall on his face, and just shoving back the covers and trying to slide his legs off the side of the bed, set off fine tremors throughout his body. It really sucked being weak.
Ronon appeared, almost like magic, then he was lifting John and they were on their way. John did what needed to be done, washed his hands, splashed cold water on his face then tried to walk to the door. He stumbled and caught himself on the counter. Ronon, with his cat-like hearing, was in the room and supporting him a heartbeat later. John did manage to walk to the bed, but he was happy to stretch out when he got there.
To find Carson waiting for him, worry etching lines on his face. Deep lines. "How are you feeling, son?" he asked, as he reached for John's wrist.
"Better," John said firmly, offering a smile. He felt bad to realize that everyone looked older and more weary than he remembered. Then it hit him that he had been ill for a long time. But they had all stood by him. He owed them more than he could ever repay. "I...I'm sorry," he whispered, dropping his eyes to his hands, and letting Carson push him forward so he could press his stethoscope to John's back.
"Sorry for what?" Ronon queried, looking confused.
John was pushed back against the pillows as Carson finished his exam. "Sorry for being a burden." There was more he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. Not that he was confusing them now, but he wasn't one for declarations from the heart, so he was simply at a loss for how to continue. How could he explain to them how grateful he was for all they had done for him. For never giving up on him. For not leaving him behind.
Teyla seemed to get it. She had been hovering in the background, but now she stepped forward and perched beside John on the bed. "There is nothing for you to be sorry for, John. We have all been a burden to each other in some way, and we will all be again. You are family, and we take care of our own."
Her message got through to him, and she said it much better than he ever could. "Thanks," John said softly, lifting his head and making eye contact with everyone. He lingered on Rodney's face. He remembered Rodney being with him, helping him. It was foggy and John wanted to talk to him about what had happened from start to finish. He wanted to know, and understand, everything that had happened to him.
"The Colonel needs to eat and rest," Carson loudly interjected.
"I'm tired of resting," John protested, indignantly.
Carson tutted at him. "Doctor's orders, Colonel. Teyla brought some soup and toast, and after you're done eating I want you to take a nap."
John considered arguing with him, but held his tongue. He would eat what he could, but he wasn't going to nap. Not for a while anyway. Not until he had talked to Rodney.
"Eat up and get stronger, Sheppard," Ronon stated, giving John's shoulder a pat. "We need to get you back into running and sparring."
"You just miss kicking my butt," John replied, a smile curving his lips. He felt hopeful at Ronon's comment, and it was nice to see that same hope on the Satedan's face. For the first time in what felt like forever, John believed he would get better.
Ronon's grin threatened to split his face. "I miss a lot of things we did," he confessed. "Like going through the gate."
John missed that too. "Soon," he promised, and it was a promise he was going to keep.
"Hold you to it," Ronon replied, before heading out the door.
Teyla said her goodbyes, with a promise to come back and read to him.
Which left Carson and Rodney. John looked at Carson. The good Doc was eyeing him intently. "What?" John countered defensively, because he was beginning to feel like he had done something wrong. Only he hadn't been awake long enough to get into trouble.
"I'm leaving you in Rodney's hands," Carson stated. "I have some lab work that needs catching up on. I want you to be good, Colonel. Understood?"
"Got it," John replied, and it gave him a bit of a thrill to realize that the words were coming easily to him now.
Carson looked pleased, as he grabbed a lap tray and settled it over John. "Eat up then, and I'll check on you soon." With that he was gone.
John reached for a piece of toast, hating the way his hand shook. It was a piece of toast but it felt as heavy as a large rock and he fumbled it, cursing softly.
"Carson said your motor functions would probably take longer to come back than verbal functions," Rodney piped up, as he dragged a chair over to the bed. "Looks like he was right. Your speech has improved tenfold."
"I'm just weak," John argued, although he knew that was only part of it. Appetite gone, he shoved the tray down his legs, knowing he didn't have the strength to lift it.
Rodney took it away without comment. He then sat in the chair and stared at John.
Who stared back, defiantly.
Rodney broke the silence. "Your muscles have atrophied and you'll have intense physical therapy to help them get stronger. You'll get there, Sheppard."
"No one noticed I was talking better," John shot back, feeling suddenly petulant about everything. Which was stupid of him, but he couldn't seem t help it.
"We all noticed," Rodney replied, looking aggrieved. "But Carson explained how you were better after the connection and that Atlantis probably helped you heal in that regard. She can help your brain, but not your body. You have to be patient about that part."
John sighed. "Patience isn't one of my...virtues." It shook him that he suddenly had to search his mind for the word.
Rodney glared at him, as if reading John's mind. "Don't freak out! We've all suffered enough freak outs all around to last a life time. You're tired, Sheppard. Take a damn nap!"
It was on the tip of John's tongue to argue, but instead he whispered, "Selia alma." Thank you. He could tell Rodney got the message. Then Atlantis was humming again and John drifted off to sleep.
OoO
His recovery during the next three days, in some way, was truly remarkable. Sorting everything out in his head still took some effort, but he could say everything he wanted to say, and in English, without hesitation now. That made him very happy. However, his physical recovery seemed to be going in slow motion.
John knew he had to be realistic. He knew he was weak from not eating and from being bed ridden for such a long period of time. But he didn't have the patience to wait. Eating was a chore. Nothing tasted good to him and he was heartily sick of soup and toast and oatmeal, which was pretty much all Beckett would let him eat. So he tended not to eat, to the point where Ronon was now threatening to hold him down while Teyla poured the soup down his throat. Breakfast this morning had not been pleasant.
That he still couldn't shower on his own wasn't helping. Rodney had suggested a bath, which allowed John to handle it himself more, which had helped. A little. But then his legs had given out when he was getting dressed and Ronon ended up carrying him back to bed. The frustration John felt was overwhelming, and stressful, and it was giving him one humdinger of a headache. It was also making it hard for him to think clearly. To the point of cursing in Ancient, when his attempt to grab the book Teyla had been reading to him, which was on the table across the room, had ended with him collapsing on the floor halfway there.
Rodney was the one who found him. First he was scared to death as he crouched beside John, asking if he was okay. But then he was snorting as he tried not to laugh. "Ancient curses are more colorful than American ones," Rodney stated.
"Alleaia!" John snapped, only to realize he'd spoken in Ancient. So he amended himself. "Leave!"
"Right." Rodney was not impressed by John's anger. "Are you hurt? And why are you on the floor? Bathroom? Did you need the bathroom?"
John felt himself flushing a bit. It got embarrassing having to ask for an escort every time he needed the facilities. Especially when it was usually Ronon who took him, and most of the time had to carry him back. "No, I don't have to pee!" He stated, baldly. "I wanted my book!" He was frustrated to the point of not being able to control his anger, despite the fact that his head was pounding. And, no doubt the pain was making him all the more cranky.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "I was in the next room. Next time ask me to get it for you."
"I didn't feel like listening to you bitch about it!" John countered, cringing inwardly. It was like he couldn't make his mouth shut itself. He was saying things he didn't really mean.
"So you'd rather be stuck lying on the floor?" Rodney grabbed John under the arm pits and grunted as he hauled him upright. Which actually didn't take as much effort as it should have, and Rodney commented on that. "You really need to start eating. I know I've always teased you about being scrawny, but this is ridiculous. I think Teyla weighs more than you do now."
Which was not the right thing for him to say at the moment. John made an attempt to pull away from Rodney, which resulted in both of them hitting the floor. John winced as his hipbone hit hard, but he almost forgot the pain when Rodney cried out. Rolling over with difficulty, John looked at his friend. "What's wrong?"
Rodney's face was pale and he was biting his lower lip. "It's my ankle. I twisted it when I fell."
"I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry, Rodney! I didn't mean for you to be hurt!" The words tumbled out of John, even as he tried to look at Rodney's ankle.
"Leave it alone!" Rodney snapped. "You've done enough damage!"
His words hit John like a slap in the face, because they were true. Rodney had done nothing but help him through everything, and this was how he paid him back. Ignoring the pain in his head, which felt like hot knives stabbing into his temples, along with the pain in his hip, John scooted away from Rodney until he found a corner. He stuffed himself into it as he watched McKay radio for Carson.
Letting his head lean against the wall, John reached out to Atlantis. She connected with him, readily, humming softly to him, trying to ease his pain. But the pain John felt now would be slow to heal.
THE END...of part 22