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NEVER STOP MOVING
By TIPPER
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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: RETURN OF THE MIGHTY WIND
By the end of day four, ninety some hours after returning from the planet, John had not only been allowed his freedom, but both John and Teyla were allowed to move around the infirmary on their own two feet, to get their strength back. John still felt as weak as a kitten, but Teyla, as usual, barely looked hurt. The woman had an ability to heal that was borderline unnatural. Still, despite obviously being well enough to leave, she did not ask to be discharged. She seemed perfectly happy to stay in her bed. And without any catastrophes requiring bed space, Carson was more than happy to let her stay.
And John was happy to stay in his as well, now located on the other side of Rodney from Teyla. Normally, he'd be begging to be discharged, but he wanted to be there when Rodney awoke, just like Teyla did. Besides, since three of his closest friends were going to be in the infirmary anyway (and Ronon seemed disinclined to spend his downtime elsewhere), the only benefit to leaving was privacy. Once Rodney was awake, he'd probably want it, but not now.
Not until Rodney was awake.
Of course, he was not a fool. Four days had passed. Rodney was officially comatose. He responded to stimuli, showed significant brain activity, and was not on life support, but he was not waking up either. Still, neither John, Teyla, Carson nor Ronon ever spoke of 'if' Rodney awoke, but 'when,' even if the other members of Carson's team had tried several times to impress upon them the negative side effects of such a long period of time. They started all their sentences with "even if he wakes up soon" and followed it up with phrases like: "long road to recovery," "brain damage," "potentially permanent physical, cognitive and behavioral impairments," and "serious long term effects." Carson had stood with the team, but John had not missed the earnest talk Doctor Morrison and Doctor Cole had had with Carson the day before, when they took him "aside". When Carson returned, he had an even more determined set to his jaw than before. The chief of medicine was a believer.
And he was not alone.
Sometime around lunchtime, Ronon came in pushing a wheelchair, and announced he was taking Teyla for "a walk." Carson then disappeared to get dinner.
Again, John was not a fool—it gave him his first opportunity to sit alone with Rodney. They wanted him to find a way to get through to Rodney as much as he did.
They needed their scientist back.
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"Ronon's taking Teyla for a walk," John said, leaning on Rodney's bed. "Or rather, a push. She's in a wheelchair because the wound on her back is still healing. Knowing Teyla, though, she's bound to be up sooner rather than later." He reached over and flicked Rodney's left wrist. "Just like I imagine you should be. Lots of great scientific discoveries happening, you know, while you're being lazy and lying here. Pretty sure Zelenka's solved the power distribution problem on the South pier—you know, the one that kept causing those two towers that look like bug heads to light up in the middle of the night? Shined right into my window, those freaking things. Anyway, Zelenka's fixed it. He's fixing lots of things, all without you. Just one brilliant thing after another…."
The colonel looked up, checking for a reaction, any reaction, on McKay's face.
Nothing.
"Did I tell you that Elizabeth has given the go ahead for the Daedalus to visit the Kaveer planet when it returns? We're going to make sure that they haven't gotten the weapon up and running—which, considering that trick we played with the math puzzles, I can't imagine them doing for a long, long time—and just reiterate the warning. Really, we're just going to fly in, show off the ship a bit, then take off. Elizabeth's going to leave behind an opening salvo in the form of a letter, though, in case they ever want to strike up an alliance. Of course," he pursed his lips, "you know that I'd rather have nothing to do with that. But, well, everyone deserves a second chance, I suppose." He looked up, then smiled. "No scientists are going down there, though. Just military. I thought I'd send Lorne. Some women think he's good looking, so maybe he can charm that harridan of a leader. Me," his smile fell, "I still want to strangle her." And probably will until you wake up, you bastard.
He stared at Rodney's face for a little while longer, then sighed and went back to playing 'flick the hair on Rodney's forearm without hitting his skin'. Obviously, he hit skin more often than not, which, to be honest, was sort of the point—it was one of the most annoying things he could think to do to someone. He'd earlier tried pinching Rodney, but, sadly, no response. It had worked before, after a disastrous cave in when Rodney had feigned sleep because he was feeling sorry for himself, but…this time was obviously different. So, he'd gone for a game of greater irritation—hence the flicking.
"Did you know that Canada has been purchased by the United States for development? Apparently, the US decided that they needed more mall space, and Canada decided the price they were offering was worth it. It's going to be a whole new state. I think they're calling it, the 'Upper United States'. Nice ring to it, don't you think? The UUS?"
He finally stopped the flicking, drawing his right hand back and resting it on the bed. There was a loose thread in the blanket…and he started picking at it.
"I also heard that Hockey is no longer going to be their national sport. Or an international one either. They're even cutting it out of the Olympics. Something to do with the melting of the polar ice caps—they're going to cart all the ice used to form the rinks up to the poles to add to the caps. Seems silly to me, but, hey, I'm not an ice…scientist…person. What do they call those?" he looked again up at his friend's face. "You would know, is it a geologist? Or an ecologist? Or phrenologist?" He waited, hoping to be corrected (the last time he'd mentioned phrenology in front of Rodney, it had resulted in the funniest set of facial expressions he had ever seen from the man, as McKay reviled it as the fakest of all fake sciences...after medicine, of course). He frowned and looked down again at his worried thread. "Either way," he shrugged his good shoulder, "hockey's gone. I hear Canadians are going to make American football their new national sport." He smirked, pulling and tugging at the thread between his fingers.
The smirk faded after a while, and he found he was really pulling at the thread. It was annoying him. He wanted it gone.
Snap
"Nuts," he muttered, rolling the snapped thread between his fingers. Opening his hand, he let the thin, pale fabric drift to the cold, dark floor.
He stared at it for a moment, then lifted his gaze, blinking at the pale, beige colored blanket, and his friend's lifeless hand lying atop it.
Damn it, Rodney. What the hell are you doing!
He let out a heavy breath, and closed his eyes.
"It's been almost four full days, Rodney," he said then, opening his eyes slowly and turning them to focus on the still features. "Don't you think you should be waking up soon?" He watched for a moment, then grimaced. "You know, I think Ronon's going to try to yell you into waking. He suggested it to me and Carson yesterday, and seems convinced that it'll work. Maybe it will. But, seriously, you don't really want Ronon in your face, do you? Just saying, you might consider waking up now. Save his vocal cords and, possibly, not give you a heart attack the moment you wake from this irritating coma of yours. So, what do you say?"
He waited, probably too long, not really wanting to give up on the hope that it would work.
"Okay," he said finally, his eyes dropping back to the blanket. "You can have a little longer to sleep. But, be warned…I'm pretty sure he's going to give it a go tomorrow. Don't say I didn't tell you so when it happens." He smiled softly, still not looking up.
"Colonel Sheppard?"
John looked up, then smiled brightly as Doctor Cole approached—she was pushing a wheelchair.
"Hi," he said, nodding to the chair. "Nice wheels."
"They're for you," she said. There was a touch of blush on her cheeks as she continued, "I was wondering if you might like some freedom of your own, seeing as your friends are not here. I could," she shrugged, "take you out to some of the balconies."
John's eyebrows lifted slightly, and he gave her a slightly shyer smile. Aw crap—he really never did see this sort of thing coming. "Uh, thanks, but, uh," he tapped Rodney's arm, "I've gotta keep an eye on Rodney here. He's sort of my friend too, you know."
Her eyes widened in sudden understanding, obviously replaying what she had just said in her head.
"Oh," she flapped a hand, "I did not mean to imply that Doctor McKay was not also your friend. I only meant—"
"I know what you meant," John said, smiling more deeply. "It's okay." He tilted his head, studying her. "You don't know him very well, do you?"
Cole pursed her lips around an embarrassed smile, "No. Not really. I've only had to deal with him once so far and," she shrugged again, "it was not the best of introductions."
"I'm sure it wasn't," John replied, smiling more. "He's something of an ass."
"Yeah," she said, sounding a little noncommittal in her response. Clearly, she was not certain if he was joking or serious. John, of course, was totally serious. But, until you knew Rodney, you wouldn't know why his being an ass was one of the reasons you ended up liking him.
"Well," she said finally, smiling softly, "I'll leave you, then." She started to turn away, then paused, biting her bottom lip, obviously debating something. A moment later, she turned back. "Just," her eyes were sad now, "you do know...you will have to leave at some point."
He stared at her a minute, and felt his smile grow cold. "Sure."
She sensed the mood change, and backed off. "Anyway, uh, let me know. I can…" she licked her lips nervously, "I'm sure I can get someone to give you a push around."
"Thanks," he said, feeling a little guilty—he hadn't meant to be mean. He tried to warm his smile. "Maybe when Beckett returns." He gave a half shrug, careful again to use his good shoulder, "He's just getting dinner, right?"
She seemed puzzled, though she smiled at him, so the 'warmer smile' must have worked. "Doctor Beckett is not on duty."
"Oh, I know," he waved his good hand at her. "But he'll be here, trust me."
The puzzled look remained even as she smiled again. Resting the chair against the bottom of his currently empty bed, she tapped it. "Well, it's here if you need it."
"Thanks," he said.
At that moment, Carson entered the infirmary, carrying a tray of food and grinning at something. Cole frowned at his presence.
"Sir, it's been almost four days. Shouldn't you be rest—?"
"I am, Doctor, I am," he said, sidling around her and over to John's bed. Seeing John in the chair and not the cot, he lifted an eyebrow. "Trade?"
John grimaced, but stood up and climbed back into his bed so Carson could sit down. Cole watched for a moment longer, then turned and walked away, shaking her head slowly.
"She thinks I work too hard," Carson stage whispered to the colonel.
"You do," John stage whispered back.
"But not right now," the doctor replied settling back and propping his feet up on Rodney's bed, balancing the tray on his lap. "Right now, I'm hanging out with two of my best friends. So," he popped a French fry into his mouth, then grimaced a little at the obvious sogginess of it, "what have you been chatting about with Rodney?"
"The United States buying Canada. I'm not sure he believes it."
"Aye, well, that's because it's not true."
"Sure it is," John grinned.
"Oh, no, son, you've not got the whole story," Carson said, shaking his head. "Canada's merely trading Quebec for Hawaii. I hear the Americans are looking forward to getting some actual culture, while the Canadians just want to know what it's like to get a tan."
John laughed, and Carson popped another soggy French fry with a smirk.
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John woke with a start, fighting back the vestiges of a nightmare that clung to his mind like a spider web. The images that had terrified him in his sleep faded almost instantly, but the fear they had engendered remained.
He let out a slow breath, and studied the ceiling, letting the simple, geometric patterns center him.
Once his heart rate was back to normal, he blinked across at the clock—four in the morning. Of course it was. What other time would it be?
He let out another calming breath and looked over at Rodney on his right.
God, he hated seeing him so still. It was wrong. Rodney was never still.
And, for the first time since returning, he felt real anger. He shifted up on his right arm, so he could face the other man.
"You're waking up tomorrow, McKay," he whispered darkly. "Just so you know. I've had enough of this. Consider it an order."
And with that, he settled back, closing his eyes and setting his jaw.
Rodney would wake up tomorrow.
And either he, Teyla, Ronon or Carson would be the one to greet him when he did—he was sure of it.
Of course, he was wrong.
Because, on the next bed over, as John fell back to sleep, a pair of slightly confused blue eyes blinked open slowly and looked around.
Since when does Rodney McKay wait for tomorrow?
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"What do you think it is?" Connam's soft voice asked, set barely above a whisper. John blinked awake, frowning briefly at the quiet sound. It was so low spoken, it was amazing he had woken at all. Connam? When did Connam get here?
"I was thinking," Connam continued as John's eyes lost their blurriness and he was able to focus on the pale dawn light filtering into the infirmary, "of giving it to your Doctor Simpson as a gift, but, then, knowing what you all went through for me...well, I wanted you to have it. If, that is, you think it might be of some use to you. Think of it as partial payment—my debt to you is great, I know that."
John forced his eyes open wider, and full clarity came back. Connam was on Atlantis? The man had never actually been allowed here. Elizabeth must have finally okayed it. Well, seeing that the man had undergone torture without giving them away—that seemed about right.
"It's a power relay of some kind," Rodney's sleepy voice said. "A small one. Pretty."
For a moment, John actually stopped breathing.
His head tipped to his right, and stared at the sight of Connam sitting by Rodney's bed. The scientist was lying on his right side, propped up on his right arm, meaning his curved back was to John. He was studying a small, perfectly spherical silver ball in his left hand that was currently glowing a soft white. He could just see Rodney's profile—half-lidded eyes focused totally on the toy.
"Yes, well, if you want it..." Connam smiled again, looking pleased with himself. John could see Rodney's muscles shift in his pale face, the left side of his mouth deepening in a frown.
"Connam," Rodney made to hand the ball back, his voice whisper soft and crackling like paper, "As I'm sure Elizabeth told you, you don't owe us anything for the rescue. We don't need payment."
Connam looked pained, "But I have to pay you back. You don't understand—there is no parity I can presently offer, for what you did for me. Even if you calculated the fact that the Kaveer kidnapped me to learn about you, I put myself in that position to begin with. I took Dodge through to their world, foolishly thinking that I could handle whatever might be on the other side. And now, look at the four of you! Teyla shot, Ronon badly bruised, you ill, and Colonel Sheppard..." Connam trailed off as his eyes lit upon the Colonel's. The trader suddenly grinned. "You're awake!"
Rodney shifted then, looking over his shoulder at John. The two men just regarded each other for a long moment, and then John broke out with a huge smile. Rodney returned it with a tentative one, obviously not understanding the reason behind the massive grin on his friend's face.
"Didn't mean to wake you," Rodney said quietly. John's eyes opened wider, and he sat up abruptly, ignoring the tug on his still immobilized left arm.
"Carson!" he shouted. "CARSON!" Before any medical staff could come in to stop him, John was out of the bed, stumbling to Rodney's side and gripping the man's left wrist in his right hand, as if to prove that the other was awake and alive. "Teyla!"
Teyla had awakened at the first shout, and she was already sitting up, rubbing her eyes with her fists. When she lowered them, she smiled deeply. "Rodney?" she called sweetly, causing McKay to turn his head towards her. The scientist frowned, and turned his attention back to John.
"Now you've woken her. I was trying not to, you know," he said, his words still soft. The frown turned curious, the blue eyes dropping to his arm. "And why are you gripping my wrist? It's not like...ow! Hey, tight. Tight! Sheppard, let up! It's not like I'm going anywhere."
Connam looked genuinely confused by all the excitement, and stood up from the chair he'd been in. He then backed up rapidly, backpedaling out of the way as a whole bunch of people suddenly descended on Rodney like locusts, none of whom the trader obviously recognized. Making a wide circle, Connam found his way around to the far side of John's bed, just as the colonel was forced back into it by Maria, the nurse patting the colonel's messy hair before turning to help the doctor's checking on Rodney. Carson was not among the crew, but he imagined it would only be seconds before Carson was here.
John noted Doctor Morrison in the front, asking Rodney questions, and getting increasingly peeved sounding answers—all of which sounded correct to the colonel, and delivered with the perfect level of snark. John settled back into his bed, a huge grin on his face. He tipped his head back, then to the side, his grin growing larger at the sight of the totally bewildered trader standing there. Connam was blinking across at Rodney's suddenly popular bed, holding the now unlit sphere to his chest as if afraid to drop it. He'd grabbed it when all the people in blue and white arrived.
"What is happening?" Connam asked, finally looking down at John.
"Why don't you tell me?" John replied. "I take it Elizabeth let you come through the Gate?"
"Oh, yes!" Connam smiled again, and the excitement was clear in his eyes—and the slight hint of avarice. John mentally made a note to have them watch Connam's interactions with some of the more gullible staff while he stayed. "Your gracious Doctor Weir informed me of your return, and that you were all currently in hospital, having been wounded in your escape from those blackguards. I expressed a desire to see you if I could, and she instantly let me come through to this...this amazing city of yours." He looked around, all wide-eyed with wonder, then returned his attention to John. "She did tell me, seeing as it is barely dawn here, that you would probably all be asleep but that I could sit with you until you awoke. However, when I arrived, I found Doctor McKay awake and working on one of your rather neat data devices—he called it a tablet? We talked for a little while until...well, until you woke up." His expression grew puzzled again, and he looked across at the commotion. "I do not understand what is happening now, however."
"Rodney sounded fine to you, right?" John asked, glancing over at the scientist and noting the tablet on the side table. Where the hell had he gotten that? Connam, meanwhile, had returned his gaze to John's, and gave a quiet nod when John looked up at him again.
"He seemed quiet...or weak, might be the better word, as one would expect from a patient in an infirmary, but...otherwise, he seemed himself." He tilted his head, then his eyebrows lifted as comprehension finally set in. Eyes widening, Comman looked at Rodney's bed, where Morrison was now having him grip something in his right hand (much to McKay's obvious annoyance), then back to John. "He was not awake before?"
"No," John replied. He was still smiling, and he reached up his right hand. "Can I see that?" he asked, opening up his palm. Connam nodded immediately, and dropped the sphere he'd been holding into John's hand. It started glowing, warm and a little tingly against his skin. He stared at it for a minute, then up to Connam.
"Thank you, Eric," he said. "We'll keep it. Partial payment."
Connam's relief at that was abundantly clear, and he grinned. "Thank you, Colonel! Thank you so much. You have made me feel so much better." He patted John's good arm, then looked up, eyes drawn to the doors when Ronon suddenly burst inside, panting and wearing the loose clothing he normally wore when running, and there was sweat on the man's face. He must have run full tilt to get here. Connam greeted him with a smile, and John did too. Ronon nodded at them, then jogged to Teyla's bedside, where he grabbed her outstretched hand. Connam's hand on John's arm gripped briefly, then let go. "I'm just going to say hello to your friends," he said, "and I'll be back."
"Take your time," John said, watching as Connam once more gave the medical personnel a wide berth as he made his way to where Teyla and Ronon were.
John held the still glowing sphere to his chest, met the eyes of Teyla and Ronon across the room, and let the now very aggravated tone of a tired and bothered and, inevitably, angry Rodney McKay make his day.
Oh yes, he loved his team.
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To be concluded in Chapter 23...