He felt better this time. As unconsciousness faded, his head felt clearer, his body stronger. John slowly opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. He winced slightly. His whole body felt sore, like he'd gone ten rounds with Holyfield, but his head, that was the worst. He closed his eyes, wondering if he could chase away the little man with the big sledgehammer that was pounding his skull. He groaned quietly and immediately heard footsteps approach his bed.
"Colonel Sheppard?"
Reluctant to open his eyes, John's brows still furrowed in confusion. Colonel?
He resigned himself to the throbbing in his head and slowly opened his eyes, staring at the warm smiling face of a woman; apparently on the medical staff. He squinted. Something tugged at his mind. He felt like he knew her and yet she was a stranger to him, both at the same time. He swallowed hard. "I..." his cracked voice trailed off. What was he going to say? I don't know you but then again I do? His confusion must've been apparent on his face, because her smile turned understanding.
"It's all right, Colonel. I'm Carolyn. Carolyn Lansing."
John managed a half smile. "Nice to meet you," he whispered. "And it's major... not colonel," he corrected lightly. His smile faded as a barely concealed look of confusion passed over her face before she quickly hid it under another smile.
"Of course. I'm sorry." She looked up at the monitor over his head for a moment, before she gently took his wrist and measured his pulse rate. She stared at her watch but still made idle conversation. "You're stronger today. Are you in any pain?"
John hesitated, before smiling slightly. "Pretty sore, but I'm all right."
She stared at him for a moment, before nodding and setting his arm down gently on the bed. "How does your bandage feel?"
Her words alerted his senses and he immediately became aware of a tight wrap around his head. His gaze narrowed slightly. "Bandage?" He lifted a shaking hand to his head, his touch encountering thick gauze. He let his arm drop. "What happened?"
Her ever present small smile faded slightly. "I'll let Dr. Beckett talk to you about that."
Suddenly, as if the pieces of a giant puzzle were falling together, John made the connection. His head... his memory... "It's why I can't remember..." his voice trailed off as the worry within him was replaced by fear. His ragged breath hissed through his clenched teeth as he struggled to stay calm. A warm squeeze on his arm grabbed his attention. He looked up and into the strongly reassuring expression on Carolyn's face. The compassion he felt from her touch overpowered any discomfort he had from someone he felt he barely knew touching him in such a personal way.
"John," she said quietly, "you're going to be fine. We're all going to help you."
"Carolyn?" John panted slightly, "what happened to me?"
She sighed quietly. "You were in an accident. I'm sorry, John, but I can't tell you anything more until Dr. Beckett has had a chance to talk to you. But," she squeezed his arm again, "you're going to be okay."
John looked away from her for a moment before nodding slightly. Her hand left his arm.
"Just relax. I'm going to get Dr. Beckett, then we'll take a look at your bandage, okay?"
His mind still reeling, John managed a small whisper. "okay." He watched her disappear behind the privacy curtain before his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The architecture looked unlike anything he'd ever seen and did nothing to comfort him. Where the hell am I? What happened? He forced his pounding head to think, to go back... to find the last thing he remembered before waking up here.
"Request permission to lead a search team," John stared hard at his CO, his determination unwavering.
Colonel Hays sighed. "John, the conditions are rapidly deteriorating. The temperature out there alone makes it questionable they're even alive. On top of that, you've got blinding snow and crosswinds from hell. You won't even be able to see the nose of your chopper, much less anything else."
"With all due respect, sir, those men are out there in it," John countered his voice deep with intensity, "we can't just leave them, not if there's a chance they're alive."
"John it's the weather that brought Stiles team down in the first place and it's only gotten worse. I don't need two lost crews!" Hays voice raised slightly in frustration.
John pulled in a deep breath as he scrutinized his CO. The frustration at not being able to do anything shone clearly on the colonel's face, and John knew, without a doubt, Hays wanted nothing more then to authorize the rescue mission and find those men, come hell, high water or blinding blizzards. Hays was a good soldier; one John could relate to and in a moment of black cynicism John wondered, if there were CO's out there he could get along with, why did the brass who condemned him have to be such pricks... John pulled in a loud, deep breath. "I'm volunteering," he said quietly. "I know the risks. I'm not asking anyone to go with me."
"You don't have to ask," a voice, heavy with a deep southern drawl interrupted from behind John. "You'll need a medic."
John couldn't quite stifle a smile as he turned and looked directly at Lieutenant Edwards. The Mississippi native smiled mischievously back at him.
A deep, almost humored sigh grabbed John's attention and he looked back to Hays.
"Oh hell," Hays muttered. "You're two peas in a pod. How I ever had the bad luck to end up with both of you in my command..." Hays sighed again and stared hard at John. "Permission granted." He raised his hand, stopping John before he could turn away. "On one condition. You two get your asses back here in one piece. That's an order."
John smiled slightly. "Yes, sir, and we'll bring Stiles and his guys back with us."
Hays nodded once. "Go."
John blinked hard as the memory faded. His gaze again focused on the ceiling above him, the memory doing nothing to clear his confusion. This wasn't McMurdo... He turned his head slightly as the curtain opened and Carolyn returned, Carson right behind her.
"Colonel? Feeling better?" Carson asked as he stopped at the foot of John's bed and glanced at his chart.
John's brows furrowed. Colonel again? "Compared to what?" he managed softly. A quiet sigh escaped him as Carson's expression turned concerned. "Yeah," he muttered. "And it's major," there was an edge to his voice, "not colonel," he emphasized.
Carson set the chart on a nearby tray table and slowly walked up next to John's bed. "What's the last thing you remember, son?"
John swallowed hard. "Colonel Hays gave Edwards and me a go to try and find Stiles' team." Even as the words left his mouth, John somehow felt they were wrong. "Did we crash?" he asked quietly. His eyes roved around the room for a minute. "This isn't McMurdo..." his voice trailed off and he looked back at Carson who shook his head slightly.
"No, it isn't," Carson answered quietly. He took a step closer to the bed, his gaze demanding John's attention. "You're Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard; commanding officer of the Atlantis expedition."
"Atlantis," John breathed, "colonel?" He took one ragged breath, than another. "What the hell?"
Carson eased himself onto the edge of John's bed. "It's all right. I expected you to be confused. You suffered a head injury, Colonel. Depressed skull fracture complicated by a subdural hematoma. I won't lie to ye, you're lucky to be alive."
John's thoughts raced his rapid breathing matching speed. "Did I crash?" he repeated softly, somehow knowing what the answer would be.
Carson shook his head. "No. ye, didn't crash, Colonel." He smiled thinly and put a warm hand on John's shoulder. "I wasn't sure the extent of brain damage before you woke up, but, you're alert and responsive. This conversation is a very good sign that it's not as bad as it could've been."
"Glad this conversation is reassuring to one of us," John answered, not able to keep the cynicism from his voice.
Carson pursed his lips. "I know this is a lot for you to take in at once, son, and it has to be very frustrating, but we're going to help ye through this. You're suffering from retrograde amnesia, not overly common in trauma like this, but not unheard of." He sighed. "I expect memories will start coming back to you and we'll help you with that too, but ye have to be patient; give yourself time to heal."
John swallowed, his mind numb with shock as he tried to process everything Carson said to him. Finally, he just nodded silently. Apparently, that was good enough for Carson who stood up.
"I want to take a look at that hard head of yours now, Colonel," Carson teased lightly. "I need you to sit up, but I want you to do it slow and easy. Carolyn will help you. Take your time, there's no rush."
John turned his gaze to Carolyn and managed a feeble smile.
She returned the favor with a stronger more reassuring smile than his and extended her hand towards him.
John took her hand and let her support and help him as he slowly sat up. He felt as weak as a newborn kitten and just about as helpless, but the calm look on Carolyn's face reassured him that he must be doing okay. Abruptly, his world tilted and John squeezed his eyes shut against the pounding in his head and breathed through the sudden nausea that plagued him. He felt Carolyn's grip tighten and Carson's strong hand on his back.
"Easy son," Carson's voice was quiet. "I don't expect your head's going to be too fond of ye moving for quite a while yet."
A light sheen of sweat broke out on his brow as he took another ragged breath and swallowed hard, trying to keep his rebellious stomach under control.
"Carson? He's pretty pale."
Carolyn's voice sounded distant to John as he held tight to her arm and even tighter to his control.
"Aye," Carson agreed, "I got him. Grab a basin."
"No," John managed in a choked voice. "'m ok..."
"All right," Carson answered. "I'll make this as fast as possible."
John felt the bandages on his head move before slowly lifting away. He clung tight to Carolyn's hand and arm using it to stay grounded and to stave off the vertigo that plagued him. He hissed in pain as something pushed on the right side of his skull.
"Sorry," Carson muttered, "looking better. We'll get another pass with the Ancient scanner, an MRI and set of X-rays tomorrow."
John could feel the shaking in his weak body as it neared the end of its limited endurance. As Carson's hands left his head, he couldn't hold it up and his head gently fell forward to come to rest on Carolyn's shoulder. For a moment, he was motionless before he realized he was leaning heavily on the medic. He tried to lift his head. "Sorry..." his voice trailed off as he felt Carolyn's hand tighten around his.
"Its okay, we're almost done," she answered gently.
"Aye son, almost," Carson reaffirmed as his hand slowly pushed up on John's forehead. "Just let me get ye re-bandaged here..."
John did his best to hold his head up but he could feel the muscles in his neck shaking with exhaustion and a moment of relief washed over him as Carson finished. He felt Carson's hand on the back of his head, supporting him.
"All right. Lay down, nice and slow now. Let Carolyn help you."
John eased himself back, letting his head settle into Carson's hand and using Carolyn's grip to slowly lay down. His head met the soft pillow and he felt Carson pull his hand free as Carolyn laid his arm close to his body.
"Get some rest, Colonel," Carson urged quietly. "We'll talk more later."
John fought his heavy eyelids. He had so many questions, so much he needed to think about, but his worn out mind and body won over. This time, he needed no drugs as his eyelids fell shut and he succumbed to exhaustion.
----------------------------------
Elizabeth watched as Ronon once again paced past her. She knew it had only been a few minutes since Carson had disappeared behind the privacy curtain to check John, but it'd seemed like an eternity. She could still see the haunted and lost look in John's eyes when he'd seen her; void of any recognition or the familiarity she'd come to enjoy. The fear she saw in his features stoked a fear within her as well. She'd rarely seen him scared, truly scared.
She sighed quietly as Ronon's form passed her again, but decided against saying anything. Rodney, however had no such reservations.
"You're wearing a track in the floor, Conan," Rodney snapped. "Want to knock it off?"
Wordlessly, Ronon turned and stalked over to Rodney. He stood close, his form dwarfing the scientist. His dark eyes intense, Ronon stared down at Rodney.
"Of course," Rodney stammered, "that's really only a request..." his voice trailed off as Teyla pulled gently but insistently on Ronon's arm.
"Ronon," Teyla said quietly.
Elizabeth watched a spark of emotion, mostly frustration, race across Ronon's face before he buried it under a mask and stepped back. Fueled by concern, tempers were definitely short all around, including hers which she tried to bury under professionalism. "We don't need any more casualties," she warned quietly, her green eyes locking on Ronon's strong brown ones before she sent the same warning glare at Rodney. Her gaze softened as she caught sight of Carson emerging from behind the privacy curtain concealing John's bed. Elizabeth pushed away from the pillar she leaned on and was the first one to reach Carson. "How is he?"
Carson sighed. "Sleeping again. Truthfully, it's the best for him." He waved towards the far side of the infirmary. "Come with me." Carson headed for a large diagnostic display.
Elizabeth stopped slightly to the left of the display as the others gathered close to her. She bit her lip in apprehension as Carson typed a couple keys before a three dimensional, graphical display of the brain came up on the screen. She stared at it a moment before sighing quietly. "Carson, how bad is it?"
Carson gave her a thin smile. "Not as bad as it could've been, but there is damage."
"How bad?" Rodney interjected.
"Just hold on a minute, "Carson raised his hand. "Let me explain what is going on." He pointed at the screen. "The colonel's depressed skull fracture and subsequent subdural hematoma, occurred here, about two inches above and about an inch in front of his ear." He ran his finger along a dark line in the image. "This 'line' for lack of better description, marks the separation between the temporal and parietal lobes of the brain. Behind that is the hippocampus."
"Carson, enough with brain anatomy 101!" Rodney snapped. "What's wrong with him?"
"Rodney," Elizabeth admonished quietly.
"I'm getting to that, Rodney," Carson patiently answered. "Based on the colonel's MRI the trauma to his brain occurred in this area," his finger traced a circle that encompassed parts of both lobes. "The temporal lobe trauma, along with what I suspect is trauma to the hippocampus is causing his retrograde amnesia. The MRI shows evidence of trauma to this small area of the parietal lobe but I haven't been able to ascertain if that has had any lasting effect on him, not yet. As for what other effects his injuries have had on him, I don't know yet. I'll be running several standard tests, targeting the function of each of these lobes, to determine the extent of damage to his brain."
"In other words, you still don't know," Rodney replied coldly.
"No, I don't and probably won't have a complete analysis for a week or so. Symptoms he displays now could fade as areas of his brain recover, others may not. It's just too early to tell."
"Carson, what sort of... impediments are we talking about?" Part of Elizabeth didn't want to ask, but the other part of her wanted to be prepared for what may be coming.
Carson's loud sigh was accompanied by a slow shake to his head. "There's a wide range of potential problems, some minor, some very severe and could effect him the rest of his life." He pointed at the screen again. "The parietal lobe is crucial to integrating sensory information from the rest of the body as well as controlling fine motor skills such as writing. It's also vital to spatial orientation. I can rule out damage to speech and word association as he's coherent and making sense, but beyond that, I'm not sure. Damage to the hippocampus effects memory, which we've already seen, as well as damage to the temporal lobe," his hand move down slightly on the display, "which could cause a variety of behavioral issues." Carson turned around, crossed his arms and looked directly at Elizabeth. "He's confused and even a wee bit scared right now and that's on top of just trying to recover from the physical trauma his body's experienced. I want to give him some time before I test him too much or throw too much at him."
"Can we help?" Teyla asked quietly. "Perhaps we can be there for him as support?"
Carson smiled slightly at her. "Aye, but remember, lass, he doesn't remember any of you. You have to treat him accordingly, but yes, he could use friends."
"He'll have them," Ronon interjected.
Elizabeth nodded her agreement and took a silent moment to process everything Carson had said. "We know for sure he's suffering from retrograde amnesia, do you know the last thing he remembers?"
Carson leaned wearily back against the table holding the display screen and nodded. "Aye. Right now, the last thing he remembers is a rescue mission in Antarctica. Something about a crew that went down in a storm and he and one other officer went after them." Carson looked away for a moment. "When he woke, he corrected both Carolyn and I on his rank, insisting he was a major."
"Oh my god," Elizabeth muttered as she looked away.
"Carson, his tour in Antarctica was three years ago!" Rodney answered.
"Aye," Carson agreed, "that it is. With some help we should be able to improve on that, hopefully by a significant amount. It depends on the extent of damage."
"How much?" Elizabeth knew she was pressing Carson for a defined answer when he probably didn't have one.
Carson shook his head. "Ideally? Everything but the immediate memories surrounding the accident. He'll probably never regain those. Realistically? I'm hoping he'll eventually recover most of the last three years, but he'll probably have holes, things he won't remember. If the damage to the temporal lobe and especially the hippocampus is bad enough, he may not even recover that. Right now, I just don't know."
"What about the scanner?" Rodney suddenly interjected.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him in confusion. "What are you talking about, Rodney?"
"Oh no," Carson shook his head. "No way."
"Gentlemen," Elizabeth chastised. "Care to inform the rest of us about this scanner?"
"The Ancient's scanner," Rodney immediately responded. "We're almost positive that it also has healing elements to it; the ability to heal complex injuries that it scans in the body. But, we've never been able to figure out how it works."
"You've never taken the time to really look into it, Rodney," Carson rebutted.
"Yes, yes!" Rodney snapped back. "I've been kind of busy with, oh I don't know, power? ZedPM's? Wraith attacks and shields?" Rodney waved his hand furiously. "The point is, the thing has the ability to heal way above our current technology. We just haven't tested it yet."
"Aye!" Carson interjected, "and I'm not about to test the bloody thing on the Colonel's brain!"
"I think you're a little ahead of yourself, Rodney," Elizabeth raised her hand to stop Rodney's protest. "Right now, we don't know for sure what John's injuries are. If you don't know how to use it, we're not testing it on him."
"I wasn't suggesting a blind test without knowing what the hell we're doing," Rodney objected. "I'm just saying, I think I can figure it out, and it might help."
"Researching it won't hurt anything," Carson nodded, "but you're going to have to do a fair bit of convincing and proving for me to authorize it."
Elizabeth's attention was diverted by Ronon moving. "I'm leaving all of this to you. Gonna go sit with him for a while." Without another word, he turned and left the rest of them.
"Ronon has a good idea," Teyla started to follow only to be stopped by Carson's voice.
"No, love, sorry," he smiled apologetically, "only one at a time, too many strange faces are too overwhelming. We need to take this at his pace."
Teyla smiled understandingly. "Of course."
Carson pushed away from the table and stood straight. "I wish I could tell ye more right now, but I just don't have the answers yet."
Elizabeth nodded silently, keeping a firm rein on her emotions. "Keep me posted." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and briskly left the infirmary.
As she walked down the long corridors of Atlantis, her mind raced. Memory loss... three years of memory loss. My god, he doesn't remember anything about Atlantis, the Wraith, his job... his friends. Carson's words rang in her head. Spatial orientation, sensory loss, loss of fine motor skills, permanent behavior issues... she swallowed hard against a lump that pushed in her throat and made a beeline for the nearest outdoor balcony she could find. Was he even John Sheppard anymore?
Elizabeth stepped through a set of large doors, and scanned the spacious balcony a sense of irony sweeping over her. Through some twist of fate, she'd ended up on the very same balcony they'd had their first Atlantis celebration on, shortly after rescuing Teyla and their people from the Wraith.
She slowly crossed the balcony to the very edge and rested her hands on the railing as memories came back to her... the very same memories John was now denied.
"Well, you are the ranking military officer now, or do you need to be reminded of that? We need to get back out there; do what we came to do."
"You do realize I can get us into all sorts of trouble, right?"
Her grip on the railing tightened and she let the professional mask she'd clung to, fall. John had made good on his words, god, they all had made mistakes, not just him, but he'd also done so much for her, his team and the entire expedition. She closed her eyes, and prayed she'd have to endure John Sheppard's "trouble" again.