It had only been six hours.
A mere six hours since Elizabeth and the others had stepped through the gate, but to John it felt more like six days. From the moment she was gone and the event horizon had dissipated, John had felt unsettled. He couldn't explain to himself what was bothering him exactly. Maybe the trust Elizabeth had put in him. Whatever it was, it had taken a concentrated effort of will power on his part not to order the gate redialed so he could step through after her.
Instead John had sought refuge in Elizabeth's office. Big mistake. Suddenly everyone and anyone needed him for something. At first he considered it a good distraction, but after about two hours he was ready to tear his hair out and he was pretty sure Elizabeth's ears had to be ringing from his curses at her. He threw a few curses Beckett's way as well. After a mere hour had passed, the Doc had called John on the radio, asking if he'd gotten anything to eat yet.
"Not yet!" John had snapped. "I'm busy." He had tapped off and figured that was that. Only an hour later Beckett called again. Then again, until John had tossed his radio out the door and had threatened anyone who even thought about disturbing him if Beckett tried to contact him again. And for a while, he had some peace.
John had settled into the flow of things and was plowing his way through his own paper work. Only to suddenly find Ronon planted in front of his desk. The minute John saw him he knew who had sent the Runner. Having retrieved his radio piece just moments before, because he felt he was finally safe from Beckett's nagging, John reached for it with the intent of giving the doc a piece of his mind. An intent he betrayed by snarling "Beckett, you rat bastard!" under his breath.
In the time it took to blink, John found his wrist trapped in Ronon's steady grip. When he looked up the Satedan had stated, "You can walk with me to the mess hall, or I can carry you. Your choice," Ronon had added, arching a brow at John.
Not being a stupid man, John had walked to the mess hall and that was why he found himself currently seated at a corner table, choking down a poor imitation of Lasagna under Ronon's watchful gaze. Thankfully he had grabbed a tall glass of juice to help wash the stuff down. He was draining half of it when Ronon finally spoke up.
"You like being in charge of Atlantis?"
"No." John knew Ronon preferred blunt honesty. As he spoke he pushed his half eaten plate of food aside, only to find it shoved back in front of him.
Ronon was glaring at him. "Eat."
John glared back; he was in charge after all, so that gave him the advantage. Or so he hoped. Because even though Ronon had made the choice to be on John's team and follow his orders, the big guy also had John's own annoying habit - annoying to their superior's that is - of choosing which particular orders to obey. "I did eat!" he snapped, pointing to the saucy mess of goop on his plate.
"Eat more." Ronon's glare never wavered. "Right now I could pick you up with one hand."
"Bullshit!" John was getting pissed. He knew he was down a pound or two but he was getting tired of people always ragging on him because he was slim. He had a good metabolism and it wasn't like that was a crime or something. Unless you talked to Rodney. McKay was vocal in his belief that John was on a permanent diet. He called it the eat like a bird diet. John had given up on trying to convince him otherwise. Instead he had accepted the perks of Rodney's misconception. Especially given the fact that, because of it, Rodney felt inclined to sneak John chocolate and cookies from his secret horde.
Ronon's glare never wavered. But his tone was surprisingly soft when he said, "She'll come back."
John blinked at that. He knew Ronon was talking about Elizabeth, but he wondered if the Satedan had the wrong idea about his feelings for her. Elizabeth was nothing more than a friend, a good friend. And the first person to believe in him - without reservations - in a long time. "I know she'll come back," John muttered, still ignoring the plate Ronon had shoved back at him. His appetite was kaput.
"Then eat," Ronon stated, his tone sharper now.
A sour retort was on the tip of John's tongue when his radio beeped. He tapped it then said, "Sheppard here."
Rodney's voice came crackling back at him. "Why aren't you in the Chair room?"
"Because I'm in the mess hall," John shot back, automatically. "What's up, Rodney?"
"Zelenka and I are in the Chair room, waiting on you!" McKay snapped back. "Are you coming?"
John hesitated, avoiding Ronon's penetrating gaze even as he pushed his chair away from the table. "I have paper work to do," he said, finally.
The snort from Rodney was loud in John's ear and made him wince. "Puhleez," Rodney drawled, in that cadence that was uniquely McKay, which meant the drawl was more like a pop of sound. "We both know you're not going to do anything that even remotely resembles paper work, Colonel. So stop wasting both our times and get down here!" A crackle of static and Rodney was gone.
"Gotta go," John said to Ronon, using Rodney's command, which he was a bit irritated at but willing to let slide since, for the moment, it worked in his favor as a means of escape from his unappetizing dinner.
"I'll stop in later," Ronon countered, his meaning very clear. He would be stopping by to collect John to make sure he ate.
John shrugged at him, grabbed his tray and headed for the nearest garbage bin. He dumped the food, set his plate in the proper bin, deposited his tray in the slot with a bunch of others then he hurried out the door. Five minutes later he was in the Chair room. He hadn't taken two steps in the door when Radek was on him, grabbing John by the arm and leading him over to the chair. John was shoved into it, making faces all the while as he tried to decipher Zelenka's mix of English and Czech, all of which was being nattered at him non stop. At least John thought it was being directed at him, since Zelenka was looking at him while he talked. After a moment John glanced down at Rodney who was sitting on the floor, tapping away at his laptop. "What's going on?" John asked.
Rodney didn't even look up as he replied, "I figured out a way to download data from the chair. I think."
"We...figured out a way," Zelenka interjected, scowling at Rodney. Then he was tapping John on the arm and ordering, "Do your thing, prosim."
"Right." John made a face, then made himself comfortable in the chair. It'd come to life, lighting up the moment he'd been shoved into it. They knew about the drones and the weapons capabilities of the Chair, but John knew they were looking for something more. More data, more of a connection. So far he had been able to tap into what Rodney believed were schematics for shielding and the like. Which meant better protection for Atlantis, if they were lucky. Which was why John was willing to help out with this particular experiment. He closed his eyes and connected with the chair.
Doing so had become as easy as breathing for John. He simply tapped into the hum of awareness that enveloped him whenever he sat in the chair. He let himself be absorbed by it, let it flow over him until he felt as if they had intertwined to become one breath, one heartbeat, one being. As if from a distance he heard Rodney asking him to bring up the shield schematics. Then there were other commands and in between obeying them, John attempted to deepen his connection to the chair. To see if he could discover any secrets. At one point he realized he was kind of zoning out and only Zelenka's tap on his face brought him back to full awareness.
"Colonel, are you all right?" Radek asked, his expression revealing his concern.
"I'm...good," John replied, hoping Zelenka wouldn't catch on to the fact he was lying through his teeth. At this very moment, pain throbbed in his temples, making him feel a bit nauseous. The connection this time had been deeper than ever before. Deeper in a way that he couldn't define. At least not with his current headache. The pain was making it hard for John to focus. He glanced over at Rodney as he eased out of the chair. "We done?" It was courtesy question, because John was not getting back in the chair today. All he wanted to do was go to his room, take a long shower then curl up in bed.
Rodney was staring at his lap top screen like a man entranced. "Yes yes," he stated, abstractly waving one hand in John's direction. "Go away now."
John resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it would make his head hurt more, and settled for smiling at Zelenka with something akin to sympathy. "Fill me in later," he requested.
"I will do that," Radek allowed, then he was moving to sit next to McKay and both of them were absorbed by the data display before them.
"Scientists," John muttered good-naturedly, as he made his way out of the room. He really wanted to take a nap, but he knew he couldn't get away with it. For several reasons. One being that if Carson found out he would be certain to haul him back to the infirmary for more tests and things. Which was the last thing John wanted. So he headed back to Elizabeth's office. He knew where she kept her private stash of Aleve and once in the office he popped two then settled back into work until a knock sounded on the door.
When John lifted his eyes from the computer screen, he was surprised to see Beckett standing in the doorway, holding a heavily laden tray. "Let me guess, I missed supper," John drawled, as the tray was set down on the desk before him. After Carson nudged the laptop out of the way.
Carson looked a bit grim. "You did," he confirmed, as he pulled a chair over and settled himself into it. "So I decided to bring dinner to you."
"There's enough food here for six people," John commented, as his eyes roamed over the plates and bowls. There was some kind of stew, what passed for chicken and mashed potatoes. Carrots, rolls and cake for dessert, along with two glasses of milk.
"I think you and I can polish it off," Carson said, confidently, as he grabbed one of the plates and started to dig in.
Knowing he wasn't going to get out of it, John took a plate of his own and started eating. A few bites in he realized he was starving and that even the fake mashed potatoes tasted pretty good. Twenty minutes later, with minimal chatter, John managed to clear off half his plate and finish the glass of milk. He waved off the cake, saying he'd eat it later, then grinned at Beckett. "Thanks for bringing dinner."
Carson set his own empty plate on the tray then moved it off to the side. "You're welcome, Colonel, but you really do need to eat more." He raised a hand to still John's protest. "Normally you're a good eater, but when you're off your feed you lose weight easily. Which you have in the past two weeks. You know I'm just trying to get you up to par again."
"I do know," John conceded, as he relaxed back into his chair and stretched a bit. "I'm not trying to give you a hard time, Doc. I'm just...preoccupied."
"Doctor Weir will be back soon," Carson reminded him.
John grinned at that. "I know. But it's not soon enough. And she lied about not leaving me any paper work." He had the grace to suddenly look sheepish. "Albeit, it's mostly my own that I've managed to ignore for a couple of months."
Carson smiled back. "Paper work that will still be there in the morning," he said, pointedly. "You need to get some sleep. Don't forget you have a PT session in the morning."
"Like you'd let me forget," John griped, even as he found himself rotating his left shoulder. It twinged a bit and was still stiff, but otherwise it felt pretty good. Almost back to normal. "So how many more sessions do I have to have anyway?"
"At least three more," Carson replied. "I know your shoulder is feeling pretty good right now, but you need to keep working at it or it will give you problems down the road."
John didn't want that to happen so he let it drop. Then he took the - not so subtle - hint that Beckett was trying to give him and shut down the laptop. A moment later he left the office with Beckett, but they parted ways at the transporter.
Once in his room, John headed straight for the shower. The hot water felt wonderful and relaxing and by the time he was done he felt ready to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. But he knew that sleep would be elusive once the dreams kicked in, so John retrieved the pill bottle from his BDU's and uncapped it. He shook out one pill, swallowed it down with half a glass of water, then he crawled into bed. Curling up comfortably, John waited for it to take effect. He didn't have long to wait. Warm darkness wrapped around him and John let himself be carried into sleep.
He came awake with a jolt, biting his lip against crying out, as much from the pain throbbing in his temples as from the dream. Scratch that, nightmare. Ford had returned to Atlantis, more Wraith than human now, and he had slaughtered everyone. In the dream John had been sleeping when it happened and he woke up to find the corridors of Atlantis stained red with blood and no one left alive but himself. The sound of Ford's maniacal laughter still echoed in John's ears.
Rubbing his eyes, John then glanced at his watch. He'd only been asleep for two hours. It wasn't nearly enough. If he didn't start getting some real sleep, and soon, John knew he'd end up being grounded. And that thought was enough to have him reaching for the sleeping pills. He popped another one as he slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom for a glass of water. Then he crawled back under the covers and closed his eyes. He started counting backwards from one thousand and he was on twenty-two before darkness claimed him once more.
OoO
The next day was pretty much a repeat of the day before, except it started with John's PT session. After which he took a hot shower, headed for the mess hall, and then he made a pit stop in Elizabeth's office to check the schedule for the day. Nothing pressing. So John went back to the Chair room with Rodney and Zelenka, broke off for lunch when Ronon appeared and glared at him, then John hid out doing more paper work.
A little after noon, Beckett showed up and deposited a turkey sandwich on his desk. John thanked him then took a bite, feeling Beckett's eyes on him the whole time. "I don't do tricks," he commented, after a sip of coffee.
"How did you sleep last night?" Carson asked, bluntly.
"Had to take two pills," John confessed. "But then I slept for six hours straight."
Carson didn't look pleased. "That's not enough sleep."
John stared at him, wide-eyed. "Are you kidding me? A six-hour stretch for me is like sleeping in on the weekend. Well...the weekends back on Earth." There wasn't much sleeping in time in Atlantis. Not for anyone.
"Keep me informed," Carson stated, then he glanced at his watch. "I have to go but I want you to eat that sandwich. All of it." He shook a finger at John.
"Yes Mom," John drawled, grinning at Beckett when the man cursed him softly. He watched the good doc rush off then returned his attention to the laptop. But John did eat as he worked, stopping only to pop a couple Aleve. By the time dinner rolled around he had the paper work finished and a bit of calculating reminded him that Elizabeth was due back in six hours."
John was considering sneaking off to the gym to see if he could get Ronon to do some light sparring with him when the tech sergeant informed him they had radio contact with the Daedalus. "Patch them through," John ordered, as he left the office and moved to the console. "Colonel Caldwell, this is Sheppard."
A moment of silence then Caldwell's voice filled the air. "Colonel. I'm surprised to hear from you. Is Doctor Weir busy?"
"She's off world at the moment," John countered. "I'm watching the office in her absence. I take it you're close by?"
"Four days out," Caldwell replied.
John was glad that Elizabeth would be back to deal with the man. They still had a prickly relationship themselves, mainly because of their disagreements about how John had handled things with Ford. If he could have turned back time, John would have done a lot of things differently. "We look forward to seeing you," John said, diplomatically. He could be on his best behavior when he wanted too.
Another moment of silence then Caldwell said, "We'll be there soon and we come bearing gifts. Or rather, supplies. More coffee and chocolate." It was a peace offering and John knew it.
"Can't wait," he replied. "See you in four days. Atlantis out." John made a cut off motion with one hand and the tech responded. He then told the man he'd be in the gym before heading for the stairs. Only to remember he hadn't shut down the computer so John headed back to the office and had just stepped inside when his radio beeped. John tapped it. "Sheppard here."
"We've got a problem," Rodney babbled urgently.
John felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "What kind of a problem?" he countered, as he moved to shut the office door. Rodney had a tendency to be over dramatic at times, but there was something in his voice that set off warning bells.
There was the sound of whispering then Rodney's shaky voice announced, "There are hive ships on the way. Three of them."
"What?" John hadn't expected that. "Wait...how do you know?" The techs outside of Weir's office were always monitoring the long-range sensors. They would have detected something. So John strode out the door and checked for himself. "I'm not seeing anything."
"Zelenka and I discovered some new uses for the information you retrieved from the chair. Apparently the Wraith have learned a few things since the last Siege. Like how to cloak their ships. It won't show up on our other sensors."
Not good news and John felt his stomach twist into a giant knot of dread. "How soon will they be here?"
There was a long moment of strained silence, then Zelenka's voice whispered, "Two weeks."