The FB is awesome. Thanks so much to everyone. You make my millennium. And special thanks to Kodiak for the beta. You guys should thank her for too. For making this better.
He felt restless. Dazed and confused rather summed it up nicely as well. John's thoughts as he meandered his way back to consciousness were fuzzy. He remembered the Wraith. They were here. That memory jolted through him, forcing words past a numb throat and making his body spasm in an attempt to move from where ever he was.
"Colonel! Take it easy now, son! You're not going anywhere!"
He knew that voice. Beckett. "Wr-wraith..." John croaked.
A heavy hand patted his shoulder before pressing him back down. "Aye, they were here but they're gone now. You took care of them."
"Gone?" John peeled his eyes open and he was surprised to find himself in the infirmary. He had half expected to still be in the chair. And now he remembered. Feeling the energy, becoming it, flinging it. "They...they're really...gone?" His throat felt dry as a bone so it was hard to talk without choking up.
"Have a sip of water," Carson said, as he held the glass and positioned the straw.
John hated that damn straw. It meant he was too weak to handle a glass. And sure enough, when he lifted one arm, his hand trembled too much to even think about touching the glass. Unless he wanted to wear the water. He let it drift back down as he took an obedient sip from the straw. It felt so good he took a few more, then he felt too exhausted to drink. John felt like a wet rag that had been used till it was ripped up, rung out and tossed away.
Carson was eyeing him with concern. "How are you feeling, son?"
"Tired," John whispered, but then a niggling sensation caught his attention. His bladder was full. Excessively full. Thankfully he wasn't hooked up to a catheter, which meant he couldn't have been out of it for too long. So he had to ask, "How long was I out?"
"Almost twelve hours. I bet you have to pee?" Carson grinned and reached for the urinal.
But John shook his head. Twelve hours was long enough to lie abed. "Bathroom," he said firmly.
Carson narrowed his gaze then shot back, "Wheel chair."
"Fine." John wasn't stupid. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand up and walk there. Not when his legs felt like rubber while he was lying down. So he watched Beckett retrieve the chair then let himself be settled into it, with Beckett doing most of the work. Then they were in the bathroom and John didn't argue when the Doc came in with him. He wasn't happy that he needed help just to stand up, but it wasn't the first time and he could deal with it.
Beckett did protest when John wanted to wash his hands. But he got his way in the end, and managed a glimpse at his reflection. The pale face, smudged with stubble, startled him. He looked like a shell of himself. He felt jittery as well, in a way he couldn't define. John splashed cold water on his face but ended up having to let Beckett wipe it for him while he clung to the edge of the sink. Then he was back in the wheel chair and apparently he zoned out for a bit. Next thing John knew he was back in bed and there was a sting on the back of one hand. He blinked at the IV being taped to his skin.
Carson offered a grim smile. "You're a bit dehydrated and such. No big deal. Just rest now, Colonel. You should be feeling better the next time you wake up.
John didn't want to sleep anymore, but darkness was already swirling around him and he didn't think Beckett had slipped him any drugs. So John let himself drift away.
OoO
He felt much better the second time he woke up. He was only out for nine hours this time. Pushing up against the pillows, John blinked hard to bring his surroundings into sharp focus, then he went to work on peeling off the tape to the IV. He needed to pee again.
"I'll get that," Beckett scolded, reaching John's side in record time. He took a moment to study the IV bag, nodded in what appeared to be satisfaction, then set about removing the needle from the back of John's hand. "Bathroom?" Carson guessed.
"And no wheel chair this time," John insisted.
Carson made a face, but helped him slide off the bed after shoving the covers back. "We'll see if you can stand first."
John was pleased to discover he was pretty stable on his feet. Although his headache was back, throbbing in his temples, and he felt more jittery than before. His first thought was that he needed a cup of tea. But he wasn't about to ask Beckett to get it for him. He'd just have to convince the Doc to release him back to his room. But first things first. John wanted to empty his bladder, take a shower, then eat something. His stomach felt empty, but there was an edge of nausea. He hoped food would fix him up.
Once they reached the bathroom, John stated, "I'm going to shower."
"A quick one," Carson allowed, his eyes roaming over John. "You're much stronger but you don't need to push your limitations too hard, too fast."
"Sure," John replied, agreeably. He had learned, long ago, how to play the game to get on Beckett's good side. He closed the bathroom door, shutting the good Doc out, then he used the facilities before thinking on the water. John stripped efficiently, then stepped under the hot spray. Mindful of Beckett's time limit, he washed his hair, lathered himself and rinsed off. He had just wrapped a towel around his waist when Beckett popped his head in, a pair of fresh scrubs in one hand.
John accepted them with a thank you, pushing the door closed again. He dressed quickly then stepped out of the bathroom. He would do everything Beckett expected of him so the Doc would be more liable to release him when John requested it. Which meant climbing back into bed and he found he was glad to do so. He felt a bit lightheaded and he could feel himself trembling a bit.
Carson reached for John's wrist, taking his pulse, and he looked surprised to feel the shaking. "Are you feeling all right, Colonel?" he queried.
"Just hungry," John replied. He didn't have an actual appetite, but he was positive some solid food in his stomach would make him feel much better.
"I'll get you some toast," Carson said. "Then get some rest. You can expect some visitors soon. Doctor Weir is anxious to know what happened in the chair. To be fair, we all are."
John had been expecting that, not that he knew what to tell them. He wasn't sure he could explain what had happened. He wasn't sure he understood it himself. But he simply nodded then called Beckett back when he remembered something. "Did you get the results from Elizabeth's scans?"
Carson moved back to John's bedside. "Aye, that I did. And you'll be happy to know they came back clean. Nothing to worry about."
"Good." John was relieved to hear that. They didn't need anymore surprises right now. At least he sure as hell didn't. Running Atlantis for a few days then obliterating a couple of Hive ships had been stressful enough to last a lifetime.
"I'll get that toast." Carson patted John's knee then he was moving away.
Alone now, John lifted his hands to rub at his temples, wishing he could will the ache away. Hopefully the food would help. For now he'd rest his eyes.
Which turned into a two hour nap that left him feeling cranky and achy and jittery. He wanted out of the infirmary and he'd asked Beckett about going to his room tonight. It didn't look promising. Puking up his toast ten minutes after eating it had probably hurt his chances. So John figured he was stuck, and he had to pretend to feel better than he did because Elizabeth and the others were on their way.
And just as if his thoughts had conjured them up, Elizabeth came through the door with Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, Caldwell and Beckett in tow. They surrounded his bed and John forced a smile. "Hey, guys," he drawled.
"How are you feeling, John?" Elizabeth asked, looking worried.
"I'm good," he replied, hoping she would take him at his word.
But she frowned at him. "You look pale."
He grinned and snarked, "No sun in here." Turning to Rodney, who was standing to his left, John said, "Maybe you can figure out a way to put in a sun roof."
"Ha ha," Rodney dead-panned, then he waved one hand airily. "Enough chit chat. How did you fire the weapon?"
"Good question," John shot back, offering a shrug. He made a mental note not to do that again until he got rid of his headache. Any upper body movement made his head hurt more.
Caldwell moved into John's line of sight. "It was very impressive, Colonel," he said lightly. "I had just reached the Daedalus when you blew the Hive ships all to hell."
John wished he could have seen it for himself. All he had was a memory of being liquid and burning before everything had swirled into black. "Good fire works?" At Caldwell's nod he grinned.
"What did it feel like?" Ronon interjected.
"Like flying," John replied without hesitation. "Flying without wings." He closed his eyes and let himself remember for a moment. It had been better than flying an F-302, or riding a Ferris wheel, or even freefalling.
Rodney looked annoyed as he shouldered in closer and smacked John on the leg. "But how did you do it?" he asked, impatiently. "How did you make it work?"
John had dreaded this moment because he knew he was going to disappoint McKay. But the truth was what it was. "I don't know how I did it," he confessed. "I just...did it."
"It can't have been that easy!" Rodney protested. "Otherwise you would have figured it out before, when we tried to test it."
"I work well under pressure," John replied, giving McKay a look that asked him to drop it. Which, of course, Rodney ignored.
Snapping his fingers Rodney blurted out, "You must have given the chair directions of some sort. Did you ask it to fire at the ships?"
John sighed, resisting the urge to rub his temples to ease the ache there. When Rodney got excited his voice got higher pitched and it was aggravating John's headache. "I just channeled the energy and flung it at the ships," he replied. And that was the best explanation he could give.
"I think that's enough for now," Carson stated, waving everyone away from the bed. His eyes were locked on John's face.
"We'll come back later," Elizabeth allowed, shooing Rodney off in front of her.
Caldwell lingered by the bed for a moment. "I'm heading back to Earth, Sheppard. I'll see you in a few months."
John nodded, carefully. "See you, sir."
"You did good, Colonel. I'll be giving the SGC a full report to that effect," Caldwell stated.
"Uh...thanks." John was surprised to hear that. Surprised and something else he couldn't quite define. Proud, maybe. It wasn't often his actions got praised, although Caldwell had always been fair enough with him. All things considered. Like the fact they both knew he really wanted John's job.
Caldwell nodded, turned smartly on his heel and strode off.
That left John alone with Beckett. He eyed the doctor then winced. "I know, get some sleep."
"You need it," Carson said firmly, fussing with the blankets, which meant tugging them away from John's plucking fingers and smoothing them out over him.
"I'd sleep better in my own bed," John grouched, even as he scrunched down against the pillows, shifting to get comfortable. But his body felt too jittery to relax. Still he made the effort and closed his eyes, already knowing that Beckett wasn't going to let him leave just yet. So he'd try and sleep to make the Doc happy with him.
Carson finished fussing and patted John on the shoulder. "Can I get you anything before I go? Mind you, I'll be in my office so just hit the buzzer if you need me or one of the nurses."
John considered then carefully shook his head. "No, I'm good." He rolled onto his side, listening as Beckett walked away. Then he made a real attempt at sleep, finally drifting into a fitful slumber after what seemed like hours.
Dreams about Steve and Bob and turning into a bug kept jolting him awake every twenty minutes or so. Doggedly, John forced himself to relax after each nightmare. He forced himself to go back to sleep. It was Beckett who finally put a stop to it, by almost scaring the shit out of him while shaking John out of a dream where he had turned completely into a bug and was killing everyone one on Atlantis. Once he got his heart rate back under control, John was grateful to be awake. He was even more grateful for the shot of sleep juice Beckett offered him. John's response was to hold out his arm.
"This should help you sleep for a good solid eight hours," Carson said, as he rubbed the spot where the needle had gone in.
"Thanks," John whispered, reaching for the blankets and drawing them over his shoulders. He felt jittery and cold and anxious. His stomach felt twisted into knots and his head was pounding. But soon he felt a liquid warmth seeping through his veins, smoothing away the chill. When darkness swirled over him, John let himself be dragged into it willingly.
OoO
The next day John felt better for having slept, but he still felt anxious, his stomach was off, his head ached and he had to hide all of it to convince Beckett to release him. Which took until after lunch as it was. John made good his escape after choking down some soup and half a sandwich. He also had to promise to rest in his room for the next two days and to expect Beckett to come check on him tonight. John was agreeable to all of it, so long as he could get the hell out of there.
The first thing he did upon entering his room was head for the hot pot. As the water heated he grabbed the Shuloc bag. Rubbing his temples as he waited for the water to boil, John paced around his room. He hated feeling shaky and jittery like this. He figured it was the after effects of channeling the energy blast. But no way in hell was he going to admit that to either Beckett or McKay. Both would want to test him like a rat in a lab.
Finally the water was ready and John steeped the tea just long enough for flavor, then he dumped in a Shuloc leaf and raised the mug to his lips. He took a careful sip of the hot liquid, willing it to kick in fast. Three sips later he could feel his headache starting to ease and the knots in his stomach were beginning to unravel. By the time he was finished he felt almost normal again. Just a residual ache in his muscles that a long, hot shower would no doubt wash away.
After taking care of the hotpot, John headed for the shower. He stayed under long enough to wash away the achiness, yet he felt surprisingly sleepy by the time he had stepped out, dried off and dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt. Sleepy enough to crawl under the covers. More surprisingly he fell asleep between one heartbeat and the next.
It was six hours later when John woke up. No dreams this time, and his headache was still gone. He felt a bit jittery, but he felt hungry more than anything so he exchanged sweat pants for jeans and stuff his feet into sneakers. Five minutes later he was in the mess hall, scarfing down Athosian stew with fresh made bread. Two glasses of milk later and he felt contentedly full and surprisingly energetic. Enough so that he figured he'd make a pit stop at Rodney's lab to see if he could be useful in some way. Only he got waylaid by Beckett. He'd forgotten about the Doc checking up on him.
"I checked your room," Carson chided. "I thought I told you to rest, Colonel?"
"I was hungry so I got something to eat," John countered, feeling a bit defensive. "Or wasn't I supposed to eat?"
Carson looked frustrated. "Of course you're supposed to eat. I'd like to see you eat six meals a day till you get up to par with your weight."
John mock-glared at him. "Don't go there, Doc. I'm lean, not skinny. Just keep repeating it and eventually it will sink in."
"Is that your excuse for refusing to wear pants that actually fit you?" Carson teased, his eyes glinting with merriment.
"Good one," John allowed, and it felt good to kid this way. To feel relaxed enough to do so. To not have the threat of impending doom or death hanging over them. At least not this particular moment in time.
Carson looked pleased with himself. "That said, enough kidding around, Colonel. Come with me to the infirmary and let me have a look at you."
John made a face but fell into step beside Beckett. "If I check out will you clear me for Gate travel?"
"If you check out okay now and the same tomorrow night, then I'll clear you," Carson promised.
"You never give an inch, do you?" John countered. He wanted to argue the point but he knew he didn't have a stand against Beckett. As the Chief Medical Officer, he had control in this area. John knew he had to suck it up and do as he was told. He just didn't have to like it. But he really did feel better than he had in months. Even before his injuries from the lab explosion.
They had reached the infirmary and Carson guided John over to an exam table in the corner. "No, I don't give an inch," he said, solemnly. "And I never will. It's bad enough I have to watch so many people die out here. I won't let anyone take risks with their well being if I can help it. And in your case, I can help it." As he spoke he reached for his stethoscope and slid it under John's shirt.
John flinched away. "Hey! That's cold!" he protested.
"Sorry," Carson replied, although he didn't sound sorry.
John grumbled a bit then did what he was told, wanting the exam over. Once Beckett put his equipment aside, John asked, "So?"
A frown marred Carson's forehead. "I have to admit, I'm surprised that you're doing so well all things considered. But you seem fine. No more headache?"
"Nope. Head's good." John rotated his shoulder then twisted his torso. "Shoulder and ribs are good too. A bit sore but nothing incapacitating in the least. So, will you clear me?"
"I'll let you know tomorrow," Carson said firmly. "Now go back to your room and get some more rest. Doctor's orders."
Sliding off the table, John snapped off a mock salute but tempered it with a warm smile. He did as he was told and returned to his room. He wasn't the least bit sleepy, but he didn't want to ruin his chances of getting cleared for gate travel tomorrow, so he grabbed his book and settled in to read. But within thirty minutes he was bored. Knowing that he really could use the sleep, John slid off the bed and plugged in the hot pot, knowing that another cup of Shuloc tea would help him sleep. It was an amazing little leaf. Giving him energy and focus when he needed it, yet relaxing him and letting him sleep without dreaming when that was what he needed most. Like now.
Slipping into sweat pants while he waited for the tea, the moment it was done he stretched out on the bed with his book. Less than an hour later he was sound asleep.
OoO
John behaved himself the next day. He woke up feeling good and rested. After a shower he headed for the mess hall, then went in search of Rodney only to learn he and Radek had gone offworld with Ronon and Teyla to repair the jumper Lorne's team had taken out. They had taken Lt. Gorrell to fly them. Which meant John was left without anything much to do, other than wander around Atlantis. He was tempted to go to the chair room but Beckett had declared it off limits to him for the time being and John didn't want to blow his chances of getting cleared tonight. By lunch time he felt a bit jittery and restless so he grabbed a sandwich and took it to his room. Once there he made a cup of tea, popped in a Shuloc leaf, ate his sandwich then took a nap. At which point it was dinner time and he ended up running into McKay in the mess hall. The jumper was repaired, although he couldn't really explain why it had shut down to begin with. They discussed it over fake Lasagna then Rodney headed back to the lab to work on specs with Zelenka.
It was time for his check in so John made his way to the infirmary. He was thrilled when Beckett cleared him. For everything. After thanking Beckett, John headed straight for Elizabeth's office. Her door was open and he was about to knock on the frame when he realized she was staring at something with an intense focus. Taking a step closer, John realized it was the necklace he had returned to her.
Turning back to knock softly, John waited for her head to snap up before entering. "You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine." She answered almost too quickly and seemed to realize it. "I was just thinking about how scared I was." A rueful smile curved her lips as she gestured for John to sit. "I don't know how you do it on a regular basis. How you keep going out there knowing something like that could happen."
"It's my job," John replied, because that was the simple truth. It was the way things were for him his entire adult life. He didn't let himself dwell on it, he just accepted it for what it was.
Elizabeth sighed, slumping back into her chair. "Helluva job if you ask me."
John studied her with concern. "Maybe you should talk to Heightmeyer about it?" he suggested. He knew that Elizabeth had a monthly session with Kate. She kept trying to push him to do the same, but John wasn't one to want to talk about his feelings with a stranger. Hell, he didn't talk about them with anyone. Not family or friends. He didn't want anyone getting inside his head, but he was all for anyone who wanted to talk about things, to do so.
"I might do that," Elizabeth allowed, after a long moment of silence had filled the room. "But I'm guessing you didn't come here to talk about my new phobias."
"I can if you want," John countered.
Elizabeth smiled at him warmly, then shook her head. "But thanks for the offer. So, what's up? You look happy."
John felt the grin spread across his face. He doubted he could peel it off. "Beckett just cleared me back to full duty."
"He said he might," Elizabeth allowed. "I have to admit I'm a bit surprised. You didn't look ready to get out of bed two days ago."
"I'm a quick healer," John quipped.
Elizabeth looked a bit worried, but asked, "So when do you want to go back through the gate?"
John chuckled. That was such a loaded question. "Is now a good time?"
"Why don't we try for tomorrow?" Elizabeth countered, but she was laughing softly. "I'll have something for you then. Nine o'clock briefing."
"Sounds like a plan," John agreed. He realized he liked the sound of her laughter. She didn't do that enough. None of them did. Sometimes it was hard to find something to even smile about. But John was in too good of a mood to hang on to such dark thoughts. Pushing out of the chair he said, "I'll let the team know."
Right on cue, Rodney popped his head in the door and eyeballed John. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you. Carson tells me you're cleared for full and active duty again."
John was impressed. "You're good. I just found out myself."
"Genius here," Rodney reminded him. Then he was waving a hand at him. "Come with me, I need you in the chair."
"Problems?" John asked, falling into step with McKay after waving goodbye to Elizabeth.
Rodney glared at him. "Always," he stated, his tone implying he was less than impressed with John's intellect at the moment.
John resisted the urge to roll his eyes and clarified. "What specifically this time?"
"I want you to see if you can find schematics for the jumpers," Rodney replied. "Radek and I can't find any logical reason for why the jumper died the way it did."
"Maybe it just needs an overhaul," John suggested, and the look he got could have frozen lava. But John didn't let it deter him from his point. "Sometimes there are simple explanations for things, Rodney."
A snort of derision was his replay as Rodney stalked on ahead of him.
John grinned to himself as he strolled along in McKay's wake. Sometimes it was good to be John Sheppard. And now was definitely one of those times. Everything felt right in his world at this moment, and John was going to enjoy every minute of it. Because he knew it wouldn't last.
He wasn't that lucky.