THE WHITE ROOM - Part 23
John was barely aware of Carson arriving with a nurse. The doctor went to Rodney, while Amy, the nurse, came to him.
"Colonel, are you all right? Dr. McKay said the two of you fell."
John pulled his arm away from her, pushing back against the wall as much as he could. "Take care of Rodney. I'm okay."
Amy smiled, in spite of the fact that her brow was creased in worry. "At least let me get you back into bed."
"No, don't touch me. Just . . . get away." John closed his eyes against the pain and humiliation. His head thrummed to the beat of his heart, as did the throbbing in his hip, but he didn't want anyone helping him. That's all everyone had been doing for weeks, taking care of poor helpless John. He didn't want anyone fussing or touching him right now. He let Atlantis reach out to him, trying to soothe his frustration and pain.
A sudden touch made him flinch and jerk his eyes open. He must have drifted for a while, because Carson was kneeling in front of him and Teyla stood in the doorway. Ronon and a nurse were getting Rodney settled in a wheelchair while Rodney moaned that his ankle was broken and would never be the same.
"Colonel, we need to get you back into bed and I need you tell me where you're hurt."
John ignored Carson as he watched Ronon wheel Rodney by. The scientist glanced down at him and then looked away quickly, purposefully turning his head toward Teyla. "Hey, Teyla, you missed all the excitement. Sheppard broke my ankle for trying to help him off the floor, so you might want to carry your sticks with you if you plan on staying."
Teyla's mouth dropped a little as she looked at John and then back to Rodney. "I'm sure John did not mean for you to get hurt."
John let his head fall forward so that it rested on his drawn up knees. The voices faded away as Rodney got farther from the room. Rodney was furious with him and who could blame him.
"Colonel, are you injured?"
Without lifting his head, John answered. "No."
He heard Carson sigh. "Good, then we need to get you back in bed."
"Go take care of Rodney. I'll be fine."
"Colonel, I'm not leaving you here in the floor. Now either let me help you up, or we'll wait until Ronon gets back and he can carry you. Your choice."
John lifted his head to look at Carson, studying his expression. After a few seconds, he decided that the doctor looked just annoyed enough to do it. "Fine." Teyla was instantly beside him and worked with Carson to get John to his feet. When he stepped forward, pain shot through his hip and down his leg, making him stumble forward and moan. Carson and Teyla caught his weight and held him up while he regained his footing.
"Not injured, huh. I should have known," Carson murmured.
"Just bruised," argued John. This time the pain wasn't so bad and he was able to limp back to the bed with their help. Once they got him settled, Carson pulled the chair up next to the bed and Teyla left them alone.
"I need to know what hurts."
John scowled at the doctor. "Shouldn't you be helping Rodney? His foot was already turning colors and . . . swelling."
"Aye, and I will as soon as I'm sure you're okay. Amy will see that he gets x-rayed and I can't do anything she can't do until I have them in my hand. The sooner you cooperate with me, the sooner I can get down to him."
John sighed loudly and crossed his arms. "I just bruised my hip when I landed."
Carson insisted on checking. After several minutes of prodding and asking questions, he finally agreed that it was just a nasty bruise and sat back in the chair. "You want to tell me what happened?"
John rubbed his face and closed his eyes against the pounding in his head. "I was stupid. I tried to get my book and fell. When Rodney went to help me up, I yelled and . . . said some things I didn't mean. I tried to get away from him and ended up making us both fall." He opened his eyes at the firm hand on his shoulder.
"I know you're tired and frustrated and you have every right to be. Don't be too hard on yourself. A person can only take so much before they get . . . cranky." Carson smiled. "I think you're there."
John tried to smile back at the doctor. "I appreciate what you're saying, but there really isn't any excuse for the way I treated him. He's been there for me through this whole stupid thing. I wasn't even really mad at him . . . I just . . . took it out on him."
"He knows that. And if he doesn't realize it right now, he will in time. How bad is the headache?"
John narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "How do you do that?"
Carson just smiled smugly. "You've been a patient of mine for a while now and you haven't always made it easy. I've learned to look for things that tell me how you're really doing. And I think that right now you have a humdinger of a headache."
John gave a small nod as he rubbed his head again. "You'd be right about that."
Carson stood and scooted the chair away from the bed. "I'll leave Teyla something to help with both the headache and the hip."
"Doc, let me know how Rodney is, okay?"
"Aye, I'll come later and check on you, make sure you're feeling better."
John let out a slow breath, sinking down in the bed. "Okay . . . thanks, Doc." He watched Carson leave and wondered just how mad Rodney was at him. Sometimes he wished his mouth didn't operate so far ahead of his brain.
oOo
John leaned heavily on Ronon's arm as the Satedan helped him to the couch in the living room. By the time they reached it, John pretty much fell onto the furniture, his wobbly legs refusing to hold him up any longer. His headache was better, but now his hip was throbbing again. Shifting around, he finally got himself comfortable. Teyla set a soda on the table beside him.
"Thanks," he said, letting his aching body sink into the soft cushions. It had been several hours since his and Rodney's tumble and he was beginning to get stiff and sore.
The door to the suite opened and Elizabeth came in carrying a tray covered with plastic wrap. "I've got sandwiches."
John watched the door close and then shifted his gaze to Elizabeth. "Where's Rodney? Carson should have his ankle fixed by now."
Elizabeth set the tray down on the makeshift coffee table and then sat beside John. "He's not coming."
"Is he okay?" asked Ronon.
Elizabeth looked at Ronon a second and nodded before returning her eyes to John. "His ankle is broken. Carson has ice on it and is keeping it elevated until the swelling goes down some and he can put a cast on it."
John swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "It's my fault."
"John, it was an accident. You didn't mean for this to happen."
John pulled away when she tried to take his hand. "No, I was acting like a spoiled kid. I had a temper tantrum and Rodney paid the price. After everything he's done and the way he stuck by me, this is how I show my gratitude."
He bowed his head, embarrassed by the way he had treated Rodney and horrified by the fact that he had caused his friend to be injured. A broken ankle would keep Rodney hobbling around for weeks, and even then it would give him problems for a while after. It always seemed to take forever for that kind of injury to completely heal. Not to mention the pain involved.
"I want to go back to my room," he mumbled. He didn't deserve a movie with friends.
"John, you're sitting right here and watching the movie with us. Rodney will be fine. It's just a broken ankle, not something life-threatening. Carson said it's a simple break and will easily heal as long as Rodney stays off it for a while." Elizabeth patted his arm and nodded for Teyla to start the movie.
John sat in a daze all through the movie. When it was over, he wasn't even sure what they had watched, something about pirates he thought. The whole time he kept replaying what had happened and was repeatedly amazed at how childish and careless he'd been. His friends had given up a lot to make him comfortable here and help him recover and he hadn't really tried to get better. He was too busy feeling sorry for himself. That was going to change.
"John?"
John lifted his head from the back of the couch and realized he'd been dozing. Carson was standing in front of him. "How's Rodney?"
"He's fine. I got a cast on his foot and he's resting."
"In the infirmary?" asked John.
Carson sighed and gave a short nod. "Aye. I would have sent him to his room, but he's convinced he'll wake in the night and not be able to move, so I agreed to let him stay in the infirmary tonight. It's a decision I've already begun to regret. When I left, he had my nursing staff running around like his personal servants."
Elizabeth snickered. "That sounds like Rodney. Guess he's feeling like his old self."
"He could stay here with us. Ronon and I could help him," offered Teyla.
Carson let out a slow breath and shook his head. "No, I suggested that, but . . . he didn't like that idea."
John looked up at the doctor. "I need to go see him . . . to apologize for hurting him."
Carson shook his head. "Not tonight. I gave him some pain medication before I left and I'm hoping to find him asleep when I get back. And you've had a hard day as well. I want to make sure your hip still looks all right and then you need to get some sleep. Did you eat?"
"He ate half a sandwich," said Ronon.
"Colonel, you need to eat more than that," said Carson quietly.
John glared at Ronon. "I wasn't aware my food intake was being measured, but I probably should have been. I wasn't hungry."
Carson sighed. "Hungry or not, you've got to start eating."
"Then feed me something with taste, something that's not oatmeal or soup," snapped John.
Carson sat staring at him for a moment before nodding. "All right. You've been suffering with the soft, bland foods for a while. You can have some real breakfast tomorrow and if you eat it, I'll take you to see Rodney in the wheelchair."
John's eyes widened a little. "Really?"
"Really."
"Okay, you have a deal. Just . . . don't let Ronon load up my tray or it'll take me three days to get it all down." John smiled at the Satedan, who gave a sly grin back.
"Don't worry Sheppard, I'll take care of anything you don't eat," said Ronon.
"I'll be here at nine and I expect an honest report. If you've only eaten a half a piece of toast, you aren't going anywhere," said Carson firmly.
John sighed and pursed his lips a second. "I'll eat." I'll do what I need to do to go apologize to Rodney.
oOo
John felt his stomach clench with nervous fear as the wheelchair approached the infirmary. He was beginning to regret the amount of breakfast he'd eaten, because now it felt like he'd swallowed a big, heavy rock. They turned the corner and Carson headed over to Rodney's bed, where his casted foot sat propped on a pillow.
"I said I wanted a cup of coffee. Hello? Is everyone in this place deaf?" The scientist went silent when he saw his visitor approaching.
Carson parked the wheelchair beside the bed. "Rodney, I told you three times already that you can't have any coffee. If you want coffee, then you'll have to get released and go back to your room."
"I can't believe you're using coffee as a way to get me out of the infirmary. What happened to ethics?"
Carson sighed. "It's not that I think you need the coffee, because I know you don't. But I'm not naïve enough to think you wouldn't have someone sneak you some the second you got back to your quarters. I'm just not letting you do it in front of me. Now pipe down and quit disturbing my real patients. You have a visitor."
"Gee, thanks. Just another way to get rid of me," Rodney said angrily.
"Rodney," snapped Carson. "Give the Colonel a chance." Carson waggled his finger at Rodney before walking away.
"Fine, fine, what do you want? To break my other ankle?"
John winced. "I guess I deserved that. I just . . . I wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I was just . . . frustrated and tired . . . and I took it out on you. I didn't really mean anything I said. I was just angry . . . and lashing out." John rubbed his face, working up the courage to say what he'd rehearsed in spite of the fact that his mouth seemed to be rebelling. He hated stuff like this. "Look . . . I'm trying to say . . . I'm sorry . . . for what I said and for hurting you." John took a shaky breath and tried to settle his stomach, watching Rodney for his reaction.
The scientist looked at him for a while, making John squirm in the wheelchair as he wondered if he'd ruined their friendship. "Fine, just don't do it again." The emotionless monotone and the way Rodney turned away made John's stomach turn.
John wasn't sure what to say. "Rodney . . . you're still upset . . . and I don't know what else to do."
Rodney's head snapped around so fast it made John flinch. "What did you expect? Did you think you'd just flash those puppy eyes at me the way you do everyone else and I'd fold like a house of cards? Poor Colonel Sheppard, he's had a hard time. Well, guess what flyboy, some of the rest of us have had a hell-of-a-time as well. You don't see anyone falling all over themselves to help us. Maybe it's time you just suck it up like the soldier you're supposed to be and do something for yourself. Especially since you're so tired of the rest of us and our bitchin'." By the time he'd finished, Rodney's face was red and every phrase resulted in spittle being broadcast for several feet in front of him. Everyone in the infirmary had frozen, except Carson, who came speeding out of his office to stand at the foot of the bed.
John sat with his mouth open as Rodney regained his composure, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he lay back against the pillows. John finally closed his mouth and looked up at the scientist, now avoiding his gaze. "You're right, Rodney. I'm . . . sorry." He began fumbling with the wheelchair, trying to unlock the brakes. Carson figured out what he was doing and released them.
"Sit back, Colonel. I'll take you back to your room."
The trip back to the room was quiet, neither man knowing what to say to the other. When they arrived, Carson helped John get settled on the couch. John noticed Teyla and Carson giving each other looks and signals, the doctor trying to clue her in on what had happened without actually speaking. It might have been funny if he hadn't been so depressed.
"Colonel, I have to get back now. Your physical therapy is in one hour, so don't forget. Call me if you need anything." Carson stood awkwardly, looking down at John as he sat staring at the floor. "Rodney's just . . . a little out of sorts right now."
John snorted. "No, Rodney's furious with me . . . and he's right. I've been sitting around feeling sorry for myself and then complaining because I'm not getting better fast enough. I just need to suck it up."
Carson sighed. "Well, that's not entirely true. Although you've had a few self-pity moments during this ordeal, I dare say you were entitled to a few and taken less than most people would, Rodney included."
John didn't say anything, so Carson moved over to stand in front of him. "Don't you go overdoing it just to prove a point. We've been down that road before and it just sets you back in the long run."
John nodded and looked up at the man. "I know, I won't. I need you to tell me some things I can do to get better that won't set me back."
Carson looked thoughtful and then sat down. "Well, let's see . . . "
oOo
Rodney hobbled down the corridor on crutches. Two marines came up quickly behind him and separated, going around him on each side. One of them bumped his arm slightly, throwing his already precarious balance off to one side. "Hey!" Just as he was sure he'd fall, the other marine grabbed his arm and pushed him back upright, hanging on until he had his balance again.
"Sorry, sir, You okay now?" The young blonde man grinned in a way that reminded Rodney of the person he was on his way to see, at least of the way he used to be. A pang of sadness flitted through him.
"Fine, just watch where you're going. This is a hall, not the Indianapolis 600."
"500, sir. It's the Indianapolis 500. We'll be more careful, sir." The young soldier hurried off to catch his friend, who was now at the end of the corridor.
"This was such a bad idea." He started slowly forward, concentrating on not falling. His arms and shoulders ached abominably from using the crutches, but he'd put this off long enough.
Sheppard had come to see him in the infirmary a week ago to apologize. He'd still been angry then and had virtually ripped the man a new one for his efforts. He'd made no effort to see or talk to him since and John hadn't come back, not that he blamed him. It had taken a few days, but he'd finally realized that he wasn't really mad at Sheppard. Well, he had been at first. But mostly he had been mad at the extended nature of the situation. They had taken forever to find a way to help the man and he'd suffered immeasurably in the mean time. Even then, his recovery was slow and frustrating. The disabling nature of what had been done to the Colonel had to be infuriating for someone normally so active and involved. And none of what was done was Sheppard's fault. They had picked him because of the stupid gene.
Even after he decided he needed to talk to Sheppard and try to make things right, he'd hesitated. His pride resisted going to the colonel and admitting he'd been wrong to throw the man's apology in his face. Sheppard hadn't meant for him to get hurt. He was just reacting to the latest in a long line of humiliating circumstances. He didn't deserve any of this mess and yet he had to live with the consequences.
Rodney was a little surprised to find himself just outside the suite. He wasn't sure if he should knock or not, but decided to plow on in. The door slid open to reveal Sheppard sitting on the couch playing a video game and Teyla with the other controller watching. They both looked up when he entered, surprise on their faces. Then Teyla smiled and got to her feet, coming over to greet him.
"Rodney, I'm so glad you are here. Come and sit down. I know you are tired after walking so far on the crutches." She fussed, leading him over to the couch to sit by John and then taking his crutches to stand in the corner, out of the way. "Would you like something to drink?"
Rodney shifted nervously. "Uh, yeah, a Coke would be nice."
Teyla fetched one from the refrigerator as Sheppard ignored him and continued playing the game. "There you are," she said, placing an open can on the table beside the couch. "I must see to something. I'll be back in a few minutes." She left the room to go back to her bedroom, leaving the two men alone.
John's man died about the time she walked out. He set the controller down and looked around at Rodney. "Uh, hey. How's the ankle?" John looked down at the cast, noticing it had several signatures on it.
"It's okay."
John nodded. "Do you need a pillow or something to prop it up with?"
"No, I'm fine."
John nodded again as they sat in awkward silence.
Rodney motioned to the controller. "Video games, huh."
"Yeah, Carson said it would help improve eye to hand . . . coordination and . . . concentration."
Rodney nodded. "I can see that. So, how's that going?"
John snorted. "So far I've just been killed a lot . . . a whole lot."
Rodney grinned, chuckling a little. "Same as usual, right?" He was relieved when John smiled back. They sat for a few more seconds while Rodney's insides trembled. He finally took a deep breath. "Look . . . when you came to the infirmary last week . . . I was . . ."
"Mad?" John offered.
Rodney shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I guess. But I think I wasn't so much mad at you as . . . just stuff, you know?"
John rolled his bottom lip in for a second, looking much like he always did. "I know. That's kind of what happened with me when I made you fall."
They sat in silence for a few more seconds, neither knowing if anything else needed to be said. Rodney finally looked up at John. "So, are we okay?"
John smiled and nodded. "Yeah, we're okay."
Rodney breathed out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness. I don't think I could have taken any more of that."
John grinned and began pushing himself to his feet. "Okay, watch this." Once he was on his feet, he slowly and carefully walked the few steps to the kitchen. Opening the small refrigerator, he took out a bottle of juice and poured some into a cup. When he was finished, he returned the bottle and picked up the cup. Rodney could see the fierce determination on his face as he concentrated on walking to the couch with the half full cup without spilling any juice. He carefully sat down and took a sip of the juice, looking up at Rodney proudly. "Didn't spill a drop."
Rodney gaped at him in awe, not thinking about how mundane the task would have seemed a few months ago. "How long have you been doing that?"
"Since yesterday," said John. "I decided to take your advice and suck it up. I gained almost two pounds this week."
Rodney laughed. "I'll tell Carson to keep an eye on you so you don't get fat."
John laughed out loud and Rodney thought maybe that was the nicest sound he'd heard in a long time. He noticed Teyla watching from the edge of the room, a large grin on her face. She gave him a nod and he nodded back. From the look on her face, she was enjoying it just as much as he was.
TBC