Strikeout
Ronon was rapidly decimating the second tuna sandwich while John pushed him down the hallway to the transporter. Seeing the Satedan licking his fingers clean, John shook his head.
"Good thing I'm pushing you. With all that mayo on your fingers you couldn't get a good grip on the wheels."
Ronon twisted around, looking up at John.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm just saying that with that grease on your hands you wouldn't get any traction on the wheel guides."
Ronon leaned over and inspected the metal circles attached to the wheels.
"These are for pushing yourself?"
"Of course, what did you think?"
"I didn't know."
"You didn't have wheelchairs on Sateda?"
"We did. But only in hospitals. They were made from wood and very heavy. And they had four wheels."
"Sounds almost like a pram to me."
"What's a…"
"Never mind," John said hastily. He didn't relish the reaction he would get if he told Ronon his native wheelchairs reminded him of baby carriages. "More importantly, you need to know that with these things you're self sufficient. By propelling these guides forward, you can move the chair yourself."
When he saw Ronon grab the guides, he added quickly, "But not yet. Dr. Keller said your spine isn't strong enough. That's why I am doing the nanny thing here."
"But isn't a nanny…"
"Still, I'm sure with the way you're improving, you'll be whizzing around on this thing in no time."
There was no reply. What did he say now? Damn, he'd spoken too quickly without considering his words, but he had been trying to distract Ronon. John sighed. Dealing with the patient was tricky at the moment. You never knew what would send him back into a huff again.
"Buddy? What is it?"
Ronon's voice shook with emotion (fear? anger? John couldn't tell) when he replied, "How can you talk about improving. I still can't move or even feel a thing."
'Okay, here we go again,' John sighed inwardly.
Trying to hang on to his patience, he said, "These things take time."
"It's been a week already. Shouldn't there be at least some change?"
"No, it's been ONLY a week. And you just started on stage 2 of your exercises yesterday." Trying to change the subject, John offered, "While you have your therapy session with Teyla, I'll talk to Dr. Keller. And if she gives you the green light, I'll show you how to get around in these chairs. You may not realize it, but you're talking to an expert here. After a particularly nasty helicopter crash, I once was in one of these things for months."
"No thanks," was the gruff reply. "I don't plan to be stuck in a wheelchair forever. So why learn?"
"That's not why I suggested this." John's patience was really wearing thin now, and he was glad that they had arrived at the transporter that would take them straight to the infirmary. He was at the point where he might say something soon that he would regret later.
When they left the transporter, John felt a pang of regret for Teyla. He was quite sure that due to him, her session with the patient would be a tricky one that day.
That's why he was not surprised when Teyla came to find him in his office late that afternoon.
"Colonel, did anything happen this morning?"
Feigning innocence, John looked at her quizzically. "Why?"
"I found Ronon's behavior today far from normal. In the week that I have assisted in his treatment now, I have never seen..."
John hung his head and held up his hands.
"Okay, I admit it. Guilty as charged. I said something stupid today, without realizing it. I'm sorry."
Teyla cocked an eyebrow at him.
"You?" she asked, surprised. "I didn't know you had anything to do with it."
"Look," John said, "I was afraid he would be unresponsive in therapy today. I said something about teaching him how to use a wheelchair, and he took it to mean that he would be stuck in one for the rest of his life."
Teyla stared at him, her eyes wide in surprise. John felt like a kid in the principal's office.
"I know, I should have known better, but I swear…"
"I have no idea what you are talking about. I am referring to the fact that Dr. McKay showed up in the infirmary today, and that as we speak he and Ronon are pouring over models and diagrams."
John was dumbstruck. "McKay? Showing Ronon... diagrams?"
Teyla nodded. "I was just as surprised as you are, but Rodney and Ronon are - or at least pretend to be - too engrossed in their studies to answer any questions. So I thought I would ask you."
John snapped his fingers, unwittingly doing a very good Rodney McKay impression
"The cafeteria! The two of them had lunch today. And Rodney said something about meeting Ronon at 5 for a lesson." Scratching his head, he continued, "If I didn't know better, I'd say Rodney is trying to teach him science."
A radiant smile lit up Teyla's face. "That must be what he is doing. Since Ronon's body is not fully functional at present, Rodney is attempting to improve his cognitive skills."
"Brain over brawn," John muttered.
"I'm sorry?"
"Just an expression. Something along the lines of 'intellect is more important than muscles'."
"I see," Teyla replied. "Well, we all try to support Ronon in our own ways and to our own abilities. And amazingly, it appears that Dr. McKay has just found his very own approach."
With a smile and a nod of the head, she turned around and left his room. John looked after her with a sinking heart.
'Yeah,' he thought. 'That makes two of you. It's only me who struck out so far.'