A/N: Events from my other SGA fic are again mentioned here, but I remain convinced that you'll be able to understand this chapter if you haven't read "Iron String" (the other fic). Thanks so much for all of the wonderful feedback! I love hearing that people actually like this fic!
The Weight of an Oath – Part 12"And what exactly do you plan to do? Wheeze at the big, nasty, bad guys?" The voice was McKay's, and it was oozing thickly with bitterness. "The oxygen deprivation must finally have ruined the remains of your brain cells if you think that you're in any condition to fight."
"McKay," John gasped the name out warningly.
But one look at Rodney's overwrought expression was all it took for John to understand that McKay was only giving voice to his frustration and worry at the situation. What was worse, John also knew that Rodney was right. He was in no condition to do much of anything except lie still and wheeze loudly, but he could not reconcile leaving the protection of his team up to anyone else but himself.
"Carson, I think you should assess his brain functioning. He must be hypoxic," Rodney said tightly. John recognized the tone as being one of cynical anxiety that could quickly escalate to an angry panic.
"Rodney, maybe you should settle down a bit," Carson advised.
"Just a few questions to assess him," Rodney insisted. "Like, what was your dog's name?"
John knew that the question was artfully designed to remind him of the last time his life had been in jeopardy, and he resented Rodney for asking it. He didn't need to be reminded of how difficult his recovery from the Aurora's effects had been, and he especially didn't need to focus on how hard Rodney had taken those events either. He hadn't asked to be brain-zapped then, and his opinion on being captured, experimented on and then fed to a Wraith certainly hadn't been considered this time around. If McKay was unhappy with the situation, then he still didn't know half of the unhappiness that John was feeling.
"Don't…be a…smart ass, McKay!" John said, attempting to inject a stronger warning into his tone.
"Not even close to being the right name," Rodney said without missing a beat. "Must be brain damage."
"MCKAY!" Now there was real anger coursing through John, and he let it show in his voice. Unfortunately it took up what little strength he had managed to conserve throughout this escapade, and he closed his eyes as he tried to regain his breath.
Thankfully, Rodney appeared to take the hint.
"Yes," he said, with artificial haughtiness. "Never mind. He sounds normal now. Irritating and ill-mannered wrapped in one big ball of bed-headed Kirkiness."
As John lay weakly gasping for breath, he realized that Rodney had initiated his normal, much reduced level of snarkiness only because his point had been made; John was far from capable of doing anything more than wheeze at the bad guys.
"I'll go take care of it," Ronon interrupted the bad-timed rant of both men. "Be quiet until I get back," he than added, with a pointed glare at McKay.
"I will accompany you," Teyla said as she frowned with disappointment at Rodney.
John watched the two of them wistfully as they left the room and then lay back and closed his eyes. He resisted an urge to sneeze as the dust that had been disturbed by his departing team-members whirled around him. He felt the warm touch of Carson's hand as it searched for the pulse in his wrist, and then he cringed as he felt Beckett lift his shirt to survey the wound on his side.
"It's all right for now," Carson said. John opened his eyes before the doctor could hide the look of worry on his face, and Carson looked embarrassed when he realized that he had been caught.
"How bad is it?" John asked, so Carson took a moment to explain to Sheppard what had caused the wound and to describe the extent of the injury. John was far from happy to learn of the progression of his illness, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear at the knowledge of how far his health had deteriorated in such a short amount of time.
"You're a bit better for travel now," Carson said as he carefully pulled John's shirt down. "The wound is bandaged, and you should be feeling a mite stronger from the iron sulfate and inflammatory medications that I've given you, as well from the injectable oxygen that Torca gave me to try on you."
"Huh?" John asked, both surprised and alarmed by this last tidbit of news. "What did you give me?"
"Don't worry, Colonel. It was desperate there for a while, so I was forced to try the alien drug, but you've suffered no ill effects. I just want to give you another injection of antibiotic, and then you'll be right as rain for a bit."
As Carson lifted the sleeve of John's shirt and injected the antibiotic, John considered his situation. He wasn't sure that he was comfortable with the doctor's need to use the Netharian medications, but he wasn't given a chance to voice his concerns. Having finished treating his patient and realizing that their time was dwindling fast, Carson turned away and called out to the Netharian woman before John could say another word.
"Torca, lass, can you help me organize the Netharian medications into those you believe are safe to use on the Colonel?" The words were barely spoken before both scientists were immersed in quickly accomplishing their task.
John felt a surge of sudden irritation but knew that Carson was acting as he should, given the circumstances. They needed to be prepared to make a hasty departure, and John was well aware that he wasn't in any condition to complain.
He closed his eyes in an effort to collect his strength and thoughts, but McKay's harsh whisper interrupted him.
"I'm sorry for…before," Rodney said quietly and awkwardly. "I'm just worried."
For some strange reason, Rodney's voice sounded disconnected and tinny. It took John a moment to understand that his friend was genuinely upset, and he felt a ridiculous grin spread across his face when the insight came.
"It's fine, Rodney," John responded, sincerely, and maybe a bit too loudly. "But I sort of resent…the whole Kirk label, especially since…last time I counted, you seem to be getting more play from aliens…of the female persuasion than…I am."
"Then you've lost count!" Rodney responded, glibly. "And I'm offended by the very insinuation that I've acted inappropriately towards any women, alien or otherwise. I'm a tower of propriety. A wall of courage and strength. I don't have time to woo women, because I save the day on a regular basis, and I..."
"…Talk way…too much," Sheppard interjected in a timely fashion. "And there's no…"Kirkiness" about…me!" he added good-naturedly.
"Ha! Now there's where you're wrong!" Rodney crowed, triumphantly. "You should have seen Torca making goo-goo eyes over you."
"Leave Torca alone," Sheppard snapped, feeling his good mood suddenly turn black. "She's just…a kid, and she's helping…us all out."
"Aye, why don't you both shut up for a bit," Carson suddenly said from behind them. Rodney visibly jumped at the unexpected interruption, and Sheppard recovered a bit of his previous cheerfulness for having seen the reaction. "You're cangling like two irate bletherbags, and it's giving me a headache."
The times when Carson would regress back to his roots to speak in his native, garbled tongue had become rare anymore, and John recognized the event as indicative of the stress the man was under. He supposed that if Carson was overly stressed, then John's own condition had something to do with it, but he couldn't bring himself to think too hard on it. Instead, feeling decidedly off-kilter, he laughed.
He laughed for a long while; long enough for tears to begin streaming down his face. He began to feel winded again, but still the bout continued for a protracted amount of time before he could bring himself under control.
When he opened his eyes, it was to the combined worried visages of his companions, but he felt too disjointed even now to care.
"Colonel, are you feeling all right then?"
Carson had asked the question, and his brogue had become so thick that John felt another, urgent need to laugh again. He successfully smothered the compulsion when he noticed that Teyla and Ronon had returned some time during his laughing fit. On a dissociated level, it concerned him that he hadn't been immediately aware of their return. He wondered about what was going on, and realized that he had better answer Beckett's question soon or else they were all going to throw him into the loony bin once they returned to Atlantis. But that was when he saw the twin expressions of fear on Rodney and Torca's faces, and the realization of how much the two aggravated each other combined with the contradiction of how similar their two personalities were forced another series of giggles from him.
"He's being too loud," Ronon hissed sharply.
Carson grasped John's face tightly, and light blinded him for a brief, panicky moment. He was now beginning to feel decidedly hazy but managed to gather enough wits about him to realize that he had just been assaulted by the doctor's penlight.
"Ah, Christ, I think he's having a reaction to the Netharian injection," Carson muttered. He placed a hand over John's wrist to check his pulse and simultaneously monitored Sheppard's breathing.
"I knew it!" Rodney said, harshly. "Voodoo! It's all just so much goddamn voodoo!"
"Be quiet, Rodney," Beckett answered back in a guilty whisper that made John smile wildly. "We had no choice. If it weren't for the Netharian medicine, he'd be dead by now. The portable oxygen is gone, and intubation under these circumstances is out of the question. His breathing is improved, and his color is better, so overall I still believe it was the correct decision. It's just that now he's a little, well…."
"High?" Rodney asked disgustedly.
"Well, yes, that's one way to describe it."
"Well, at least one of us is feeling happy about the situation," Rodney rumbled, and John couldn't help the laughing and pointing that followed next.
"We need to leave, now," Teyla said. "And we need to leave quietly if we wish to remain undetected. Do you think that Colonel Sheppard is capable of doing so?"
"Well we don't really have much of a choice, do we?" McKay asked, bitterly. "It's either knock out the local sheriff until he's discovered later, in which case we'll be followed, or leave now and hopefully get away without being noticed."
"We are still too far away from the second Stargate to risk being followed now," Torca insisted. "We must leave without doing him harm."
John wanted to argue that of course she wouldn't want them to touch a hair on any of the locals given her association with the Oath and all, but his tongue suddenly wouldn't cooperate. Despite an unexpected rush of sullen resentment he suddenly felt towards her and towards her continued loyalty to her immoral people, the fuzziness that had started to blur his edges wouldn't let him communicate his indignation.
He settled for huffing darkly and pushing Beckett's hands away. Rodney bent down in a stubborn move to help his friend, and John's tongue was suddenly free again.
"I don' need…any…help," he insisted, not realizing that his words were slurring. "'M fine. Can stay…quiet," he added. To reinforce his line of reasoning, he then put an index finger to his lips and made a loud shushing noise. But the attempt was half-successful in that he ended up spitting all over McKay's face, and then he couldn't stop the burst of giddy laughter that escaped him.
"Oh that's just disgusting!" McKay whispered caustically as he wiped spittle off of his face. "This is never going to work!"
"We have no choice," Ronon stated flatly. "Teyla and I have managed to trick the lawman into thinking there's something interesting in the Southern part of the forest, but if he has any brain, he won't be distracted long. We need to leave now. Teyla, you and the girl should go to the machine and meet the rest of us on the Northern edge of the woods. We'll follow with Sheppard. I'll take care of the lawman if he becomes a problem again, but regardless of how this goes down, you both should be prepared to leave as soon as you see us coming."
"Hey, who put you in charge?" John asked angrily. Ronon rolled his eyes and ignored the incapacitated Colonel in an act that caused some of John's current resentment for Torca to spread to the big Satedan.
"You'd better go now," Ronon said instead to Torca and Teyla. They both left without questioning Ronon's orders, and John felt a moment's shame. But his changeable mood allowed him to dismiss the incident quickly, and he ended up blinking heavily as he fought against another bout of hysterical laughter.
"You'd better take him, Doc. I'll watch your back, but you need to keep him quiet," Ronon instructed Carson.
At the sound of another series of muffled snickers from Sheppard, Rodney threw his hands up in desperation.
"We're doomed," McKay announced in a fatalistic whisper.
"Just help the Doc," Ronon insisted in a tone verging on anger. As the other two men struggled to lift the uncooperative weight that Sheppard presented, Ronon bent down to pick up some of the medical supplies that neither Beckett nor McKay would be able to carry. As he gathered the remaining provisions, Ronon had the idea that, for the first time, maybe McKay had correctly assessed a military situation.