Chapter 5.
This chapter deals with the psychological fallout from Sheppard's torture. Thanks to Kodiak for her wonderful beta skills!
"Good morning, Colonel. How are you feeling today?" Kate asked brightly as she pulled up a chair next to John's bed. She knew she'd likely get the standard 'I'm good' answer from John, but she hoped to get more, she had to get more if she was going to be of help to her patient.
The last few days had seen John withdrawing from those around him and showing periods of depression or aggression. His nightmares were constant, and several times Carson or his nurses had had difficulty waking John or bringing him back to the present.
John had initially agreed to talk to Kate, but their first few sessions had proved fruitless, with John refusing to discuss his feelings, and trying to say what he thought Kate wanted to hear. Kate knew how smart John was, and that he'd run rings around psychologists in the past.
Something worried Kate intrinsically about John's present mental state. Usually he'd be desperate to escape the infirmary, but he'd shown no inclination to leave Carson's care, and she knew Carson was worried about John's nausea and poor appetite.
Kate watched John warily for his reply to her salutation.
The object of her attention exhaled and ran a shaky hand through his wild hair.
"Let's see…" he began in a voice betraying his agitated state. "I had nightmares all night. You know the kind?…The ones that leave you screaming, the sort that you actually think are real, till you find yourself being shaken awake by two nurses." He paused and swallowed. "I lost my breakfast, and Carson told me that if I can't keep my food down soon, he's going to have to give me some sort of reinforced milkshake drink, which probably won't stay down either. So, all in all, I think it's fair to say I'm feeling pretty shitty. That's the only way I seem to be feeling lately. How are you?" John asked Kate glibly.
Kate smiled evenly and picked up her PDA.
"I'm good, Colonel. Even better now that you've been so candid."
John's shock must have registered on his face, as Kate sat in John's line of vision, seeking to keep eye contact with him.
"There's nothing wrong with being honest about how you feel, Colonel," she told him gently. "I think you're expecting too much from yourself at the moment. What happened to you was beyond your control; in fact, I think you feel you had no control over what happened to you when you were captured by Kolya."
Closing his eyes, John sighed and sunk back into his pillows.
"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered tiredly.
John heard Kate tapping on her PDA.
"I know you don't. But, we have a problem here, Colonel. Do you know about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?" she asked in a neutral tone.
John's eyes snapped open. Obviously the reaction she wanted, John realised, as Kate's smiling face greeted him.
"Of course I do. Are you saying that's what's wrong with me? That I'm losing it, and'll soon to be joining the ranks of the mentally incapacitated?" he asked, a little anger present in his voice.
Kate's smile vanished.
"Not at all. However, I believe you are showing the first signs of PTSD. You're showing classic signs of depression. You're having nightmares bordering on episodes of hallucination, and if we don't get a handle on this soon, then you could find yourself back on Earth, in a military hospital, Colonel."
John snorted. Was Kate trying to frighten him into opening up, and admitting he had a problem, and hadn't he already admitted he had one anyway?
"Elizabeth wouldn't allow it," he answered petulantly, knowing that if Carson and Kate insisted he go back to Earth, that Elizabeth would be as impotent as he in stopping that.
As if to confirm his fears, Kate merely raised her eyebrows and searched John's face.
"Do you honestly believe that to be true?" she asked neutrally.
John shrugged insouciantly.
"Well, she kindly arranged for my promotion and got me this command, so who knows?" he answered a little bitterly.
"Does that bother you?" she questioned matter-of-factly.
John shrugged.
"A little, I guess. It would've been nice for the brass to actually say, 'well done, Sheppard, you did a good job out there.' But, I'm not naïve enough to think my record doesn't colour their judgement. I'm a 'loose cannon', and 'don't play by the rules', having a 'problem with the chain of command'. So, yep, it bothers me, but I'm not stupid enough to expect anything different." John paused and frowned. "I'm grateful to Elizabeth. She believed in me – saw something in me I didn't even know was there. I owe her a lot, I'd like to think she owes me too."
Kate nodded in understanding, and sat up a little straighter in her chair.
"I think you underestimate your value sometimes, Colonel. Elizabeth has often told me she couldn't have carried on without you." Kate paused in thought, and looked John in the eye. "You're right, though. She would fight to keep you here. Your faith in her isn't misplaced. However, whether you stay here is mainly up to you."
John snorted as he raised his eyebrows.
"And how did you come to that conclusion?" he asked in surprise.
"It's up to you whether you want to get better or not. If you talk to me, and agree to some treatments I want to try, then I believe I can help you. I'm not saying I have a magic wand I can wave to make this all go away – I wish I did. But, I believe if we can discuss your feelings, your fears, and your insecurities, then maybe I can help you come to terms with them and give your mind a much-needed break." Kate paused as she licked her lips a little nervously.
"I have a couple of therapies I'd like to try on you, as well as the cognitive behavioural therapy you're already familiar with from previous sessions we've had."
Pushing himself a little more upright in bed, John exhaled and nodded warily.
"Okay. I'm not stupid enough to realise I'm not coping with this as well as I should be. What do you have in mind?"
Kate crossed her arms and chewed her bottom lip before answering.
"I want you to hear me out before you make any decisions. For either of these therapies to work you have to want to participate in them, okay?"
John nodded again, and wondered what the psychologist had planned for him. He'd experienced the cognitive therapy before, and thought it was pretty useless. Breaking down things that upset you into why they upset you and learning how to deal with them seemed a little self-indulgent to John.
He'd heard some worrying stories over the years about PTSD and the various treatments soldiers had undergone, and hoped whatever Kate was suggesting that it didn't involve group therapy sessions. John knew he'd find it tortuous to share his feelings in front of his team. He'd been tortured enough already, hadn't he? He thought participating in that might just finally send him over the edge.
Kate nodded in return and picked up her PDA, scanning the page in front of her.
"I know you're not going to like this, but with PTSD group therapy has proven to be of great benefit to the patient…"
John zoned out as he distantly heard Kate explain that his team, Carson and Elizabeth had all been forced to witness John's torture first hand; they were as much a part of this as John himself was. How he viewed them seeing his humiliation and torture, as well as how they viewed it were of vital importance in coming to terms with both his and their memories.
"I know you hate sharing your feelings, I also know you're instincts are screaming at you to keep tight-lipped, not show your friends any more of your vulnerabilities, but what you don't realise is that they have fears and the same vulnerabilities too." John felt a sense of dread as he heard Kate's words, and swallowed as he began to feel nauseous. "They don't pity you, they're angry and hurt, and feeling guilty. I really think this would be useful, primarily to you, but to them as well," she concluded.
Kate looked at John's features and noticed how pale he had become. She reached out to touch his arm.
"Are you okay? We can stop if you want to?" she asked quietly.
John looked past Kate, focusing on a spot on the infirmary wall.
"I'm not sure I can do it, Kate," he whispered, his voice small and lost. "I know what you're saying makes sense. I need help – I know that. I also know a little about PTSD. Hell, most pilots know someone who's suffered from it, or have heard about guys who have," he admitted. "I've even heard about group therapy sessions." John paused as he let out a small, desperate laugh. "I knew you'd suggest it. No," he corrected himself quickly. "I'm trying to be honest here, right?" he asked Kate earnestly. "I was dreading you suggesting it. The problem is, it's not who I am…I just don't talk about my feelings…it…it goes against everything I was brought up to believe."
John took in a huge breath, and continued to talk, knowing the sooner he got what he needed to say off his chest, the better.
"My dad never showed any affection or admitted how he felt, unless he was angry – he said it showed weakness. I was his only son, only kid, and I was expected to do the same. There was no great repression, no anger, no traumatic childhood. I just towed the line and have always kept things to myself. It's how I cope," John explained matter-of-factly. "I don't know any other way of coping," he admitted. Suddenly his face became pained and he bit his bottom lip subconsciously as he wrestled with his emotions.
"I'm concerned," John laughed again. "No, scared as hell, that if I let go and show my feelings that - that the damn will bust open, and God help anyone who stands in the way of the oncoming deluge," he admitted in hitching breaths. "I can't lose control like that – I just can't."
Kate smiled comfortingly at her patient and lowered her PDA.
"I wouldn't let it go that far, Colonel. I have had some experience with situations similar to your own, though I don't pretend to be an expert in this field. I promise you, if I saw that happening, I'd intervene. You have my word," she promised solemnly.
"'Kay," John whispered shakily.
Seeing the level of distress just talking about group therapy had caused John, Kate went to stand.
"I think that's enough for today. You look tired, and could do with some rest," she commented, as she started to turn away.
"You said two new therapies. What else did you have in mind?" John asked, curious.
Not quite out of her chair yet, Kate lowered herself back down and turned her head to face John again.
"One of the most successful therapies when treating PTSD seems to be exposure therapy." Kate watched John's face carefully as she talked, trying to judge his reaction to her words.
John snorted with derision.
"You planning on grabbing a wraith and getting him to stand over me, his hand stretched out…trying to feed on me?" he asked with a mixture of humour and hysteria in his voice.
Kate shook her head vehemently, as she realised John was starting to become distressed again.
"No, no, of course not."
"Good, 'cause I actually think that might make me go nuts," John answered with a little levity in his voice. "What exactly is exposure therapy then? I don't think you mean you want me dropping my pants in front of everybody, at least I hope not…for their sakes," he joked.
Kate smiled in relief as the old John Sheppard returned momentarily. She let her smile fade as she began to explain to John what she meant.
John listened calmly to Kate's explanation of what she proposed – until the punchline was delivered.
"Basically the therapy involves you re-living, re-enacting what you experienced, under close supervision from me, of course. The best way for you to do that is to watch the tapes we've kept of your torture."
John's face blanched as he took in Kate's words.
"You…you want me to watch Kolya trying to blackmail Elizabeth and then the wraith sucking the life out of me?" he asked in disbelief. "What good would that do?"
Kate looked John in the eye and grimaced.
"I understand why you wouldn't want to watch them. However, research has shown that re-enacting the traumatic event really does help the patient come to terms with what happened. For you, watching those tapes could prove cathartic. We don't really know why, but that and group therapy appear to be more successful than relying on medications alone."
John stared into space as he considered what Kate was proposing. He'd thought group therapy would be bad. But watching the recordings of his torture? That really was something else.
"I need to think things over," he stated calmly, though his heart was racing, his stomach clenching and his head pounding at Kate's words.
Kate stood and squeezed John's arm.
"That's sensible. You've done incredibly well in our session today, Colonel.
Your candour has surprised me – pleasantly. I'll see you same time tomorrow," she said warmly.
John sank back into his pillows and quietly wished everything and everybody would just go away.
-oOo-
Ronon wandered into John's line of sight, and grunted as he approached his resting CO.
"You alright, Sheppard?" he asked gruffly. "You look like hell."
John looked up at the tall man, and smiled sadly.
"Thanks, big guy. Way to cheer me up."
Ronon shrugged matter-of-factly.
"I call it as I see it," he replied nonchalantly.
John snorted and frowned in thought.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked on impulse.
Ronon shrugged a second time as he perched on the end of John's bed.
"Sure."
John cleared his throat and looked away from the Satedan.
"If what happened to me had happened to you, would you watch the recordings of your torture?"
When Ronon didn't answer immediately, John turned to face him. He saw a confused expression on the dreadlocked man's face.
"They kept copies of the wraith feeding on you?" he asked in surprise.
John nodded, and closed his eyes as he laid back against his pillows.
"Huh. Would I watch? Nope. Don't think so. Why would I want to?" Ronon questioned John in a neutral voice.
"That's what I said. Kate thinks it would help me get over everything, but I'm not sure it would."
Ronon appeared to be thinking about John's plight.
"I don't understand a fair bit about your people, Sheppard. Some of your ways seem pretty strange to me. But, Teyla told me the Doc helped her once. Sorted her head out when she found out she had some wraith in her blood. Don't think I'd have got over that like Telya did. So, if Teyla believes in her, I think you should. You trust Teyla?"
"You know I do," John answered without hesitation. "I just don't trust psychologists."
Ronon snorted in agreegment.
"I don't trust any healing people. If it was me lying where you are, I'd get out of bed, go to the gym and spar until I dropped. That'd work for me. You're not me though. So…maybe you should try what Doc says. I've been talked in to going to some sort of group thing, and believe me I didn't want to go."
John looked across at Ronon in surprise.
"You went to group therapy?" he asked in disbelief, his voice squeaking in amazement at the end of his sentence.
An uncomfortable expression graced Ronon's face as he nodded.
"Yeah. Teyla made me. It wasn't too bad. A bit like women's talk. It seemed to help McKay. Heightmeyer doesn't seem too bad - for a doctor anyway." Ronon shrugged. "Can't say I'm traumatised by what happened to you – just pissed. If you'd stayed old, maybe I'd feel differently. But you're okay. So no point in sweating about it. You Earth people seem to think about things too much. Causes problems when they shouldn't be there if you ask me," Ronon commented dryly.
John chuckled at Ronon's words.
"You could well be right, big guy," he agreed readily.
Ronon scrutinised John's features and a quizzical expression crossed his face.
"Teyla said that your brain chemistry's a bit screwed up, whatever that means. That you're sort of sick in the head. You look all right to me."
"I don't know whether to thank you or be insulted," John answered with humour in his voice. "Kate and Carson have got me on medication to get everything back on track, some drugs called 'selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors'…" John looked at Ronon's confused face, "yeah, don't ask me what they are. They're supposed to sort out what's wrong there. Carson says the chemical imbalance in my brain could be caused by the enzymes he found in my blood after the feedings, or maybe that it's because I've been so sick." John snorted and raised his eyebrows. "'Course, it could be that I'm just going nuts," he laughed a little too loudly.
Ronon grunted softly and looked John over.
"You don't look nuts to me. You going to watch the recordings?" Ronon asked curiously.
It was John's turn to shrug.
"Don't know. If I'm going to get better I guess I have to trust that Kate knows what she's doing. I can't go on like this. I'm being pretty useless to everyone and draining resources," John answered glumly.
"Then stop whining about it and get on with it. Better to meet the enemy face to face, rather than keep trying to evade him."
With that, Ronon stood, slapped John on the arm and strolled off, giving John a lot to think about. John immediately decided to take matters into his own hands. Waiting until the coast was clear, he got surreptitiously out of bed, left the infirmary and headed to his quarters. If he had to watch the wraith enjoying his meal, John was going to do it on his own terms, right now – and alone.
Tbc.