Chapter 5 – Unfamiliar surroundings
Pathee waved to him. He watched her retreating form, laden with bags from Dr Beckett and Teyla Emmagan, be slowly enveloped in the watery opening until she was gone. He felt a little lost and crossed his arms, sighing softly. He had promised Pathee he would give them a chance and here he was. He did have something he was supposed to be doing back home, a little project, but he could afford a couple of days.
This whole place and its people were a puzzle he was reluctant to piece together. He was worried that if he completed it, he'd find the answer to his flashbacks. That those brief glimpses were real and he was a monster. That his life had been a waking nightmare. He really didn't understand why he'd agreed to this. Curiosity?
Did he really want to understand when his dreams indicated the depth of his perversity? He'd lied, tortured and killed people.
He tried to reconcile his meagre memories with the people before him. They didn't seem like those from his flashbacks, but he had the overwhelming sense of foreboding when he had walked through the gate. He was so confused. He wondered why he cared so much. This was his past, wasn't it?
He looked away from the Ring of the Ancestors, the Stargate, and wondered what he was supposed to do now. He'd never seen so much technology in one place. Light shone through the panelling on the walls, mesmerising him.
"Rodney. What would you like to do?" Doctor Weir asked the very question he had been pondering.
"I think a visit to the mess hall would be the first order of the day. Then a little tour of the labs."
Spock turned toward the drawling voice. "Colonel Sheppard."
"Call me Sheppard."
Spock mustered a smile. Time to give them a chance. "Okay, Sheppard. Food sounds good. Lead the way."
He nodded to Doctor Weir and followed Sheppard. They walked in silence, Spock didn't have anything he wanted to say at this point, but it was hard to ignore the looks people gave him. They continued through the twists of the corridors until they came to a door. It opened automatically and Sheppard motioned for him to step in.
Spock was a little hesitant about being in the enclosed space, but finally curiosity won him over. He watched Sheppard press a map on the wall and the doors closed only to open a moment later. Huh. That certainly made manoeuvring around this place a little easier. No wasted energy or time getting from point A to point BSpock wondered ifthere were crystals behind that map that was obviously a control panel. He'd found that clear crystals were a necessary component for many of the Ancestors devices. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he almost dismissed the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Sheppard stood at the doorway looking at him. "Come on, slow poke." He gestured for Spock to follow. Some people stopped talking as he and Sheppard walked down the hallway while others just stared. Spock hoped the novelty would soon wear off.
As they approached the commissary, Spock's head began to ache. It wasn't so bad. He'd had worse. He just followed Sheppard's example and grabbed a tray. "Teyla and Ronon have saved us a table." Sheppard grinned, nodding in their direction. Teyla inclined her head when she saw Spock look their way. Ronon just kept eating.
Spock looked at the food and picked up a cup filled with a bluish substance Sheppard called Jell-O. He also picked up another kind of food, which Sheppard promptly took off his tray, and looked at him concerned. "You're allergic to it." Spock thought it looked okay, so he shrugged.
They didn't talk. Spock had nothing to say and the beginnings of a niggling headache didn't help either. It was mild, but the small ones sometimes blossomed into crippling one. In those cases, solitude was the only way he had to deal with them, but in this place he couldn't just walk to a wide-open space. In any case this headache was too soon after the last one. It was usually a few days before he'd get another one. He must be hungry because the medicine the Doctor had given him had been working, giving him a brief respite from the pain. As if on cue his stomach made a loud noise and the band around his head tightened a little more. On the other hand maybe he should rest in his room after this. After the meal he'd tell Sheppard that he could see the labs later. The meal couldn't take that long.
As they waited in line, Spock tried to ignore the feeling of being watched, being stared at. He looked around. There were so many faces. Too many faces. A familiar ache began behind his eyes and the pressure in his head increased. He knew sooner or later it was going to get worse. The smells of the food began to overwhelm him. Panic welled up from the pit of his stomach. The Jell-O wobbled as he turned to Sheppard. "Uh, can someone escort me to my room? I'm not feeling hungry." He put his tray down.
Sheppard looked at him worriedly. "Sure. You okay?"
Spock waved his hand about as his stomach churned. "Tired, I think." He didn't want to ask for help. He just wanted to be alone.
"Okay." Sheppard put his tray down and they left. They walked in silence until they reached Spock's room. He smiled at Sheppard. He didn't want to show any weakness even though his body was betraying him.
"Thanks." Spock waved his palm over the door just as he'd seen Sheppard do it. "I've got it from here."
Sheppard stood at the threshold, undecided. "Okay. Catch you later."
Spock watched as Sheppard went around the corner before closing the door. The pain-free facade he'd raised came crashing down. He stumbled over to the bed and missed. The hard floor jarred his body as he sank to his knees. He slumped onto his side. He couldn't concentrate. The pounding in his head increased as he put his hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds coming out. He was whimpering as the pain overwhelmed him. It felt as if his brains were being forced out of his eyes and ears. His breathing hitched and then he was screaming into his arm. His last coherent thought was that there was no way he was going to be able to survive this one.
oOoOoOoOoO
Sheppard walked away with the knowledge that something was wrong. He was torn. If this had been Rodney, John would've told the man not to be an ass and dragged him off to the infirmary. Mind you, if this had been Rodney, he would have visited Carson himself demanding loudly for some of the good stuff. But it wasn't Rodney. This was Spock, and despite what he had said about only being tired, the pale frowning face and sheen of sweat had indicated otherwise.
As he rounded the corner, Sheppard touched the radio in his ear. "Carson, I think you need to pay Rodney a visit."
"What's he done to himself?"
"He said he wanted to rest, but I think he has that headache back."
"The fool. I told him to see me…Colonel, you need to go back." Carson's frustration was evident.
Carson had speculated that Rodney's headaches were a result of the knock to the head he'd received when the gate had malfunctioned; the intensity of the headaches had him worried that there was something else going on. He'd tried to investigate but as soon as Rodney had been coherent, he had wanted to be released from the infirmary. Pathee had said he'd avoid a healer at all costs.
While Carson indicated Rodney was probably experiencing retrograde amnesia, Sheppard was hoping that by staying in Atlantis they could coax some of those memories back. It was good to have the man here, but it wasn't Rodney. A Rodney that didn't complain about being sick was unnatural.
"I'm going back to his room."
"We'll be there soon."
Sheppard hurried to the door and instructed it to open with his mind. Nothing. He waved his hand over the panel. Nothing. "Control. I need you to open the door to Rodney's room."
He waited a few minutes before the control room technician replied. "Sir, the door is not responding."
"Call Zelenka." Sheppard continued to try to gain access to Spock's room. He began pushing the panel.
Weir joined in the conversation. "Colonel, what's the matter?"
"The door to Rodney's room won't open. We think that he's got another headache."
"We?"
"Carson's on his way down."
A muffled scream erupted from behind the door.
"Dammit." Sheppard began pounding on the door, "Elizabeth, get Zelenka here NOW!"
oOoOoOoO
Spock opened his eyes. He lay, flat on his back, without pain and stared up into the darkness. So this is what it feels like when your brain explodes. From the corner of his eye a brief flash of light blinked out of existence. He supposed he was still in the room on Atlantis, but the lights were out. That or he was blind. Spock let out a sigh. Or he was dead.
"You are not dead."
The soft voice shocked Spock. He whipped his head around in the voice's direction and attempted to see the person talking to him, but they were well hidden by the darkness.
The voice spoke again, "Let me illuminate this place."
Slowly, a small light blossomed, growing brighter and brighter until a person was revealed.
Huh. A blonde woman sat on a simple chair watching him. She was dressed in a white and brown suit, her golden locks flowing over her shoulders. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Trebal," she extended her hand and rose from her seat, "we've met before."