Two Princes
Chapter 7 - Sakura
-------
John
The clinic was a busy place and this was just the one that catered for off worlders. The lean to tent that stood on the outside of the one storey building that was the clinic, was filled with wooden benches all filled with people. It was pretty easy to pick out those who had the Sweet Grain sickness and those who accompanied them. Lorne had been taken straight through to be treated as he had been barely able to stand up when they had arrived through the Gate. John however could still stand and was clearly in the first stages of the sickness. Though, there were a few seated, or slumped in some cases, on the benches who looked like they were going to get treated before him. He wished there were some magazines to read.
He looked round at Teyla beside him. He realised he had been slightly slumped against her shoulder and tried to sit more upright. She looked round with that testing look she had worn since she had first found out about Lorne being sick. Her eyes flicked up to John's forehead, as they had regularly since they had arrived in the clinic. He wondered how bad he looked and was immensely grateful that there weren't any mirrors in the waiting area.
The back of her fingers touched against his forehead again and she frowned. He already knew his temperature had gone up, he could feel the heat emanating from his face and body.
"I'm okay," he said quietly.
She dropped her hand. "I think I shall still speak with a nurse."
He was about to protest that there were people in here who were more in need than him, but she was already getting up from the bench. At which point he discovered how much of his weight really had been resting against her as he almost fell sideways. He managed to correct himself, sharing a slightly embarrassed smile with her. They really should put proper chairs in here, for the benches had no backs to them and there was another line of people seated just behind him. He had no direction in which to lean but against Teyla to help keep himself upright.
He watched her walk down the avenue of knees towards the nursing station at the far end of the triage tent. A man just up the row across from John met his eyes and rolled his eyes in the universal male language that said 'she does worry'. John smiled back before he returned his attention to where Teyla stood at the far table.
The man sat beside John abruptly coughed violently, but fortunately covered his mouth in time. The man beside the guy slapped his back helpfully. The indefinable smell of sickness and body odour lingered in the air of the waiting area, though the nurses had attempted to help by setting burning incense in the corners of the tent. Teyla had said something about the stuff helping ease symptoms as well as smelling nice.
Not for the first time today John really missed Carson. The guy, as well as being one of John's good friends, was a brilliant physician who had always had a way of making John feeling less pathetic when he had gotten ill in Atlantis. The loss of his friends welled up inside him once again, and this time the sadness was stronger than he had felt in a long time. He still missed his buddies, but he had gotten on with his new Athosian life and had found that he had been slipping less and less into home sickness and melancholy. Slumping on the bench now he guessed being ill was making him feel a little depressed.
Teyla abruptly appeared by him and he sat up straighter alarmed with himself for not having kept an eye on her. They were in foreign territory; who new what could happen. John had insisted in carrying his sidearm with him, though Sakura was a safe and peaceful world. It would be just his luck that the Wraith would return only to start their feeding frenzy on Sakura when he was there.
Teyla sat down beside him and he saw one of the small buckets of water in her hand and he watched as she dipped a simple clean cloth into it. He reached for it as she lifted it back out. He squeezed it off and lifted it to his forehead. The coolness of the cloth was a sweet relief. He sighed in delight and Teyla murmured with amusement beside him.
"They say it should not be too long," she told him quietly.
John looked round her, the odd drip of water falling through his field of view from the cloth against his forehead. "There are people a lot sicker in here than me."
"They have a large number of treatment rooms, so there will probably be a time when several rooms become free at once." John suspected she was sugar coating it, but all he felt like doing was sighing.
The guy next to him coughed loudly again, the sound rattling. His friend, relative or even partner, on the other side slapped his back again.
"That is not helpful," the man managed to reply through his coughing. The other guy just smiled.
"Of course it is."
"I do not need to be here, I can recover without this treatment," coughing man argued. "I've had the sickness thrice before."
"Well, you are just as sick this time as the last," came back the argument.
"I don't like the treatment," was the muttered reply. There was a strong touch of depression in his voice and perhaps even a little fear.
"I will be there with you, just like last time. You will be fine soon."
John tried not to listen to the two mens' conversation but it was difficult when they were sat only two inches away from him.
The guy started coughing again, but this time his companion didn't slap his back, until there was some desperate back pointing and he slapped his hand back against the coughing back. But, this time the coughing turned into retching. John pulled back from the man instinctively knowing what was going to come next. However, the guy's stomach appeared to be thankfully empty. Two of the nurses from the far end had been paying close attention to the guy and one hurried towards him with a bucket in one hand. The man took the bucket quickly and bent over it, spitting into it. John tried to find another few centimetres between them. Realising he was practically climbing over Teyla's lap he sat back a little.
The male nurse in front of them frowned at the guy and pressed a hand to the sick man's forehead and then made some gesture down to the far nurses. There was a nod and another nurse arrived and between them they got the guy upright as he began coughing again. John's stomach began to feel very quesy just from the sound of the sickening coughing that threatened to fill the bucket.
The guy was led away down the tent towards the curtained off entrance into the main clinic. John noticed that the other sick patients sat along the benches were watching as well, but where he had expected to see resentment or sympathy, he saw mostly nervousness. Most of these people were acting like the poor guy had been led off to an uncertain fate. The guy's companion could be heard offering soothing reassurance, until the curtain dropped behind them as they disappeared into the clinic. Which left everyone else sitting tensely in the dull waiting atmosphere.
John looked round at Teyla. "Why do I get the feeling you're still holding back on the details of this treatment?" He asked quietly. He knew that if she had withheld anything it would be for his benefit, but he was getting to the point where he needed to know.
He watched her expression change and caught the ever so subtle shift of her features that suggested that he had caught her out. If he hadn't been sitting so close he might not have noticed. Her lips looked fuller sitting so close to her as well, he noted. And she smelled good. He caught himself from those thoughts and focused on her words. She had taken the cloth from his forehead which had become as warm as his skin and she dropped it back into the bucket to refresh it.
"I told you the affect of the treatment on people varies considerably," she said as she lifted the cloth back to his forehead. He watched her from under the dripping cloth.
"You said it makes you really weak," he pointed out.
She lifted one of his hands to encourage him to hold the cloth to his forehead. "Yes, it does, but it can also have strong emotional affects on people. Some find it a difficult experience, but the stories and rumours do more to make people afraid of the treatment than actual fact."
He watched her face and lifted a suspicious eyebrow at her. She gave him a smile. "You will be fine," she replied as she patted his closest knee.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "That's what that guy just said, didn't stop his sick friend from being dubious."
Teyla's eyes flicked to the far end of the tent where the two men had vanished. "I do not think they were just friends." He knew the comment was an attempt to distract him.
"Am I gonna start hallucinating?" he asked. The few times he had experienced that before had not been pleasant - in fact terrifying might have been a more accurate description.
She gave him another pat on his knee and reached for the cloth again. He let her take in, realising that it was already warm; his temperature was going up quickly. "It is unlikely. As I said it is usually more emotionally demanding," she replied.
That did not make John any more comfortable. In fact that made it all a little bit more worrying. He wasn't sure he wanted Teyla sitting next to him if he started uncontrollably crying over some upsetting thing that had happened to him – and he had plenty to choose from. He and Teyla had seen each other at their worst and at their best, but there were limits where John felt comfortable. Maybe it would be best for her to wait outside for him.
She reapplied the cloth, the backs of her fingers dropping to one of his cheeks and she frowned again. She looked back down the aisle of people and John looked round to see a nurse smiling back at her reassuringly. Before John could ask, another nurse appeared through the far curtain and pulled it back. It looked like they were ready to take in the next wave of patients. John felt his first wave of nausea and suspected it had nothing to do with the sickness.
The nurses selected various people from the benches and one of them nodded to John. Teyla picked up the bucket at their feet and her hand was strong on his arm. It took more effort than he expected to stand up, his muscles having grown used to his slumped position on the bench. He lowered the cloth from his forehead and followed the nurse along, who looked pleased to see that John could still walk by himself. John tried to hide the fact that it was hard going.
He followed the nurse down the line of benches and then through the curtain following along behind a line of other patients and those with them. On the other side of the curtain the tent had become the strong walls of the building. There was a long corridor that extended what looked like the full width of the building in both directions. The line of patients was divided off down the left and right corridors. John was pointed down the left and he wandered along following the others, some of whom were being helped along. John paused to wait as one patient had to be handed a bucket. John felt his legs weaken briefly and there was a burst of heat through his body. Teyla's hand landed on his back, pressing supportively against him. He allowed some of his weight to press back against her, though he wanted to stand by himself. Her other hand appeared around his shoulder and the re-freshed cloth was given to him. As he applied it to his forehead he realised he couldn't remember having given it to her in the first place.
The line continued forward and he was shown into a smaller waiting room, and he dropped into a proper chair only to be waved into one of the smaller rooms opposite almost immediately. Teyla followed him into the small clinic room. A woman with a polite professional air waved him towards a chair and closed the curtain that enclosed the room from the waiting room. John sat with a heavy drop of his weight. Teyla settled into the chair just behind him.
The doctor, presumably, sat down opposite John and smiled at them, asking their names and welcoming them to Sakura. John actually appreciated the small talk, as his stomach was definitely feeling queasy now. The woman had a small table next to her on which sat a piece of official looking paper which she was writing down John's name in a language which he couldn't recognise. He wondered idly how she would spell his name. There was a large cupboard behind her and several banks of what looked like chilled cabinets, though he had no idea how they kept them chilled without electricity.
"Have you been treated here before?" The nurse/doctor asked him.
"No," John replied.
"He has not had the Sweet Grain sickness before," Teyla added.
The woman made a note on her paper with an interested smile. "You are new to working the grain?"
"Call it a late career change," John replied.
The woman nodded, and John had no idea if she had understood the touch of sarcasm, as she smiled politely again.
"Tell me how you are feeling," she asked. John told her his symptoms and she looked at the rash on his arms. Happy with that the woman set aside her paper and focused on him entirely. "Have you been told about the treatment?"
John gave a quick look towards Teyla. "I've been told it affects people differently and that it's not exactly pleasant."
The woman nodded. "There are a wide range of reactions to the treatment and they do not reflect on the success of the treatment. What will happen is I will give you the medicine now then once we're sure you have kept it down, you will be shown to a private clinic room where you can remain as long as you need to get through the effects of the treatment. There are fully trained care providers available at all times. Once the reactions have passed you should feel immediately improved though perhaps tired. You will then be able to sit in the recovery room for some time if you wish. Do you have any questions?"
"How long does it take for the 'reactions' to pass?" He asked.
"Again it varies. There are a large number of private rooms in the clinic so there will be no hurry for you to leave." Which explained why there had been a long wait, John guessed.
"Have you seen another guy Evan Lorne through here?" John asked.
The woman consulted a separate sheet of paper. "No, but he was probably seen by another physician. I will ask for you and let you know later." John nodded.
"Okay then." John handed the cloth round to Teyla, who smiled encouraging at him.
The woman stood and moved over to one of the chilled cabinets, pulled out a tall flask and poured out a measured amount of a thick dark liquid into a small cup. She put the flask away again and returned to the seat opposite John. She handed him the cup. John took it with a flicker of worry, but he was really starting to feel ill, so the prospect of feeling better soon was comforting. The cup was chilled from the liquid and a dark scent rose from it.
"Try to drink it all in one go," she said encouragingly.
John took a breath and drank the liquid as he would a shot. He swallowed the liquid instantly, but it still hit his taste buds with a burst of intense bitterness. He hissed with the taste, unable to stop himself from pulling a face. The woman smiled as she took the empty cup from him.
"It is very bitter," she said belatedly in John's opinion. John nodded, unable yet to talk. The woman set the cup down into a bowl of water across the room and then returned to them. She asked a few other questions about where they had come from, all clearly meant to pass the time as they waited to see if John was going to bring up the medicine. His stomach seemed surprisingly happy with the disgusting liquid.
After a few minutes the woman led them out another door and down a corridor to enter an area that had a definite hospital feel. They walked past one door through which John could see a corridor lined with closed doors. A loud scream of panic burst out and then a loud sob of what sounded like pain. Once the sound died a little John thought he could hear several other people muttering loudly, in a wild incoherent way that suggested they were talking manically to themselves. Concern doubled in John's stomach and suddenly he decided that he definitely wanted Teyla in the private room with him. He had to worry what kind of nightmare he might relive. What if he reacted by thinking he was back in a Wraith ship or something. As they walked he pulled his sidearm from his thigh and handed to Teyla. She took it without comment.
They were led through another door and into a quieter corridor. John saw a couple being shown into a far room. There were several nurses down the corridor and all of them smiled in greeting and then turned back to their work.
A door stood open and the doctor waved them into a small room. So this would be his private clinic room. It looked more like a fully stocked hotel room. There was a comfortable looking bed with nice clean sheets, a chair next to it and a tall jug of water set on a table. There was also another bucket of water, cloths and, a little worryingly, an empty bucket. Great.
John walked in a little cautiously and sat on the end of the bed. Teyla closed the door behind them as the doctor woman reached for one of John's wrists and began to take his pulse.
"How do you feel?" She asked.
John thought about it. "Still warm. Stomach's a bit better."
The woman nodded and then looked up at his eyes, reaching up to open his eyelids a little wider and she studied his eyes. She stood back then.
"I will wait with you until the medicine begins to take affect. If you need anything please call for an attendant. They will check on you if too much time passes just to check on you and to see if you need anything else."
John listened to her words, but the world seemed to be changing around him. A new flood of warmth spread through his body and the tiredness he had been feeling abruptly became heavier. He took a breath and the warmth in his body became a wave of intense relaxation. He sighed heavily. The woman was back in front of him and was looking at his eyes again.
"It is taking affect. How do you feel?"
John smiled at her as she stood back from him. "Good," he replied. "Sleepy, but good." Everything was becoming soft and gentle around him. He saw the smile cross over the woman's face.
"Oh, you are going to be one of those," she said with a grin. She looked round at Teyla who had appeared next to her. John turned his sleepy gaze to Teyla and back.
"What 'those' is that?" he asked slowly, the effort taking a lot of concentration.
"Does everything feel blissful and you feel very happy?" She asked.
"Yeah," John replied with feeling. "The air feels good." The woman and Teyla laughed a little. They moved away from him, but then hands caught him and he realised he had been falling backwards.
"Let's get you comfortable on the bed," the woman was saying, as hands helped him along the length of the bed. The cover was extremely soft under his hands and it smelt really nice. He dropped onto his side against the soft pillow and sighed happily. A heavy heat was pouring through him, but unlike the heat of the fever this felt really good and he was happy to just lay here and enjoy it. He opened his eyes and noticed how pretty the table was beside the bed.
"The colours taste nice," he commented to the women as he looked at the painted table.
There were some more amused sounds and then the sound of the door closing. Teyla appeared beside the bed and John looked up at her, though he didn't lift his cheek from the soft pillow. She smiled at him, her hand settling on his hair. He smiled at the touch; so warm and nice. He told her it was nice and she seemed to grin widely. Her hand lifted and then resettled against his forehead with a flash of cold water as the cloth was once again settled over his forehead.
He opened his eyes again, not realising he had closed them, and things had changed - Teyla had taken off her coat and was seated next to the bed, one arm extended towards him as she pressed another wet cloth to his forehead.
If she said anything to him he didn't hear it because he was drifting into sleep again, filled with dreams of pretty things and soft touches.
---------
Teyla
Teyla sat back into her seat beside John's bed, her back aching from constantly leaning forward to replenish the cool wet cloth over his forehead. The doctor had told her to keep working to keep his temperature down to ease the treatment. The woman had also remarked that those who reacted like John had done were the safest of patients. They were usually very relaxed and easy to deal with, unlike someone further down the corridor who Teyla could hear was raging and shouting about something. The noise didn't seem to disturb John from his sleep though.
She noted he was smiling even in his sleep. She smiled herself as she reached forward and tested the cloth. She pressed her fingers to his cheek, but found him still very hot. When she had sat beside Halling when he had visited this clinic, it had taken hours by her Earth watch for him to return to himself. Halling had cried out against the Ancestors, then had wept heavy achingly painful sobs that had made her cry as she sat with him.
John stirred and she saw the hugely dilated eyes open and he sighed. She lifted the cloth from his head and tilted her head to smile at him. He grinned back at her.
"Are you still feeling good?" She asked.
He drew in a deep breath and rolled his head back on the pillow. "Good," he muttered as he rolled fully onto his back, one arm flung out across the bed. She watched him blink rapidly, possibly as he tried to focus on something. "The ceiling is pretty," he muttered.
Teyla looked up at the very plain ceiling above them and smiled. "I am sure it is." She set about dipping the cloth in the water bucket again and squeezing it out. He murmured and then rolled onto his other side, turned away from her. She contemplated carrying the chair around to the other side to tend him, but decided it was probably easier to sit up on the side of the bed with him. She stood and sat down on the bed behind his back and leant over him. He glanced up at her, before he returned his sleepy looking cheek to the pillow. She laid the damp cloth onto as much of his forehead as she could reach. He murmured again, but then she realised he was humming. She leant a little further over him and listened to the sound. She hadn't ever heard John hum before and she grinned at him.
Then he began to mumble words along to the same broken melody he had been humming.
"…I've had it to here, being where love's a small word, a part time thing. A paper ring. I know it's been done, having one girl who loved me…right or wrong…weak or strong…" he was singing quietly, clearly enjoying the words. She leant closer, resting against his back as she did and she smiled down at him.
"Don't know that I will but until I can find me a girl who'll stay and won't play games behind me…I'll be what I am…a solitary man." She listened to the lyrics which, though he was delivering with amusement, had a rather melancholy air she thought.
"…was mine till the time that I found her holding Jim and loving him…" He had begun to sing slower, sounding a little sad and finally he fell into silence. She looked down at his face to see that he was still awake, but was frowning now.
"Are you alright?" She asked him, unsure if he would understand her in his current state, Halling hadn't most of the time during his treatment.
He nodded, the movement large and exaggerated as though it had been a lot of effort. She decided not to interrupt his silence. She prepared another cloth and laid it against the back of his neck. He began to mumble again and another broken whispered song drifted out into the silence between them. However, this melody was slower and most definitely sader, and he whispered the words more than he sang them.
"There are places I'll remember, all my life, though some have changed…some forever, not for better. Some are gone and some remain..." The words were deeply poignant and she stilled to listen closely. "All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall…some are dead and some are living..."
"I know I'll never lose affection…for people and things that went before…I know I'll often stop and think about them. In my life..."
Stirred, she looked over his shoulder to his face again and saw a tear rolling down his cheek. His words drifted off, the song falling into a soft hum again. She reached over him and very lightly wiped the tear tracks from his cheek with the back of her fingers. The hum died away and he sighed heavily. She felt very emotional herself now. One tear shed by John was as painful as all of Halling's sobbing had been for her.
She reached up to his forehead, testing the damp cloth and then ran the backs of her fingers down his cheek. His skin was still too warm, but she was aware that her action was now for his comfort rather than to check his fever. He sighed with a heavy edge of sadness. His pleasure had turned quickly into grief it appeared.
He began to whisper again in a faint tune. "…everyone I know goes away in the end…"
She stroked over his cheek again as his voice dropped away. "It is alright, John," she whispered to him.
He sighed again and she repeated her caress to his cheek. His eyelids fluttered shut and he once again fell asleep.
She watched him for many long minutes. His back was hot against her side as his body battled internally against the sickness. Kanaan had asked why a nurse couldn't have sat with John, but Teyla had not even considered leaving John alone to go through this treatment. Yet, she wondered if she was torturing herself a little by being here. She wanted to care for him she admitted to herself now, as she squeezed out the next cloth. It satisfied something deep inside her, but was that simply a weaker version of what she wanted. She was sure that Fera would not be simply sitting by Evan's side as he went through whatever world his treatment created for him. Teyla found herself imagining Evan's head resting in Fera's arms, as she stroked his hair.
John stirred again and Teyla noticed that she had been stroking over John's hair. A little embarrassed at herself she told herself it was the nurturing caring part of her that tending John brought out in her, but she knew it went deeper than that. She wished she could express her true level of affection for him. He murmured and she leant over him to see look at his face again. She liked the excuse she had to rest her body against his even slightly. Perhaps she should be ashamed of herself, but she simply focused on John.
He rolled his head back slightly to look up at her. His eyes were still glazed, but there was slightly more focus there now.
"Hey," he said, the word drawn out.
"Feeling brighter?" She asked. The image of a tear slipping down his cheek was still painfully clear in her mind, and it pulled on a particularly tender heart string inside her.
He murmured a pleased sound and nodded his head with exaggerated slowness.
"Would you like some water?" She asked as she reached for the cup on the side. He nodded again, so she brought it over his side and held it close to his lips. He lifted his head enough to drink down more than she had expected and then he slumped back down. "How do you feel?"
He rolled onto his back slightly, pressing his waist against her hip as he looked around the room. "Good. Pretty ceiling," he commented.
She smiled down at him. "You mentioned that earlier."
He nodded again. "I like the sparkly bits," he added.
She turned her head to look up at the still plain ceiling above them, which had a clear absence of anything that could possibly be considered sparkly. She looked back down at him and smiled widely. "If you say so."
He grinned back at her and laughed. She didn't think she had ever heard a grown man giggle before, but the laugh that rumbled out of John was pretty close. The ceiling might not be sparkling, but his eyes certainly were. A warmth poured into her face and chest at the sight and she reached under his head to retrieve one cloth that had fallen away from his neck. She rinsed it out and then reached up to set it against his forehead and noticed his eyes drifted closed with the contact of the new coolness.
"Do you still feel hot?" She asked.
"All of me feels warm," he replied his eyes still closed. "Like I'm filled with warmth and…it feels nice." She imaged that it would. His face still looked very flushed though. She looked at her watch and saw that only forty minutes had passed. His temperature would fall eventually, but it might take a little longer still.
He sighed and then rolled back onto his side away from her again. She moved with him as she was still arranging the cloth.
"Feel weird though," he muttered.
"It will pass," she assured him.
"I'm being swept along on a wave, can't hold onto anything." That sounded uncomfortable to her, but he seemed relaxed enough.
She reached up and stroked over his hair again. "Just relax," she whispered to him, hoping that would be best.
"Will you stay here?" He asked her from behind his closed eyes.
She ran her hand over his water soaked hair again. "I will stay right here for you, John."
"Stay close," he whispered. That heart string was plucked again and she rested her side more fully against his back.
"I will stay as close as you wish me to," she whispered to him. It was the closest she had ever come to telling him how she truly felt about him, but in this situation she knew he wouldn't understand her deeper meaning.
He slept for a while and she stayed with her side rested against him, stroking his hair and constantly changing the cloth over his forehead. At one point a nurse knocked gently at the entrance and entered to ask how he was doing. She gently took John's pulse and felt his forehead along with Teyla. His temperature was falling and his body didn't feel as hot against her.
"The treatment is working though there is still some way to go," the nurse said. She asked if they wanted any food and returned with two plates of basic food and some fresh water.
Once the nurse had gone and John remained deeply asleep, Teyla moved from his side to pick up a plate of the food. She tried some of the meat and then the vegetables. It tasted simple, no doubt to help those with a queasy stomach. Not wanting to sit on the chair away from him she instead returned to sit behind him on the bed, but this time propped up the spare pillow against the headboard of the bed. She took off her shoes and put them down with John's that she had pulled off his feet earlier. Then she climbed onto the bed behind his back and stretched out her legs with relief. With the plate on her lap she could eat and, with John's head just right beside her, she could keep changing the cloths.
After awhile the cloths were no longer drying out and were perhaps no longer necessary. She dropped both the cloths back into the small bucket and set it aside. Then she gently dried John's forehead and his hair with a small hand towel. As she finished off the last of her food she heard someone screaming down the corridor again, and someone else thumping against a wall, or perhaps they were the same person. Voices murmured, too soft through the walls for her to understand, as friends, family and nurses tried to comfort those lost in the ravages of their treatment reactions.
John groaned beside her and she leant forward to look down at him. His bleary eyes opened and closed.
John nodded and rolled over slightly until his head bumped against the outside of her hip and he looked confused for a moment. She reached down and stroked his hair again.
"It is alright John, just rest, it will all pass soon."
He looked up at her with wide darkened eyes and nodded. His pupils were huge leaving no doubt about the medicine's affects. He smiled again.
"Ceiling still sparkling?" She asked.
He looked to the ceiling above her and nodded. She continued to run her fingers over his hair, his scalp warm under her fingertips. She watched his wide eyes studying the ceiling with a focus that made her really curious as to what he was seeing. Then finally he sighed as her fingers drifted over his forehead, his eyes shifting back to her face. He watched her with a dazed focus, his eyes roaming around her features.
She felt a little warm herself under his intense scruntiny, but continued to run her fingers lightly over his forehead, following up from the strong lines of his brow, up into his short dark hair. He sighed and his eyes drifted closed.
"Lorne okay?" He asked sleepily.
"The nurse said he is already in the recovery room and is well," she informed him. "Though she suggested he may need to remain there for a while yet."
"Good," he uttered. "Lorne's a good guy."
"Yes, he is," she replied with a smile.
"I miss Rodney and Ronon," he muttered, though his tone was far from sad, instead he sounded like he was barely present in his body.
"I miss them as well," she said.
He sighed again, the sound long and drawn out. "Glad you're here though," he said.
She smiled down at his closed eyes. She was glad she could make this situation easier for him in anyway, and it was a nice compliment to hear from John.
He let out a sleepy moan and turned his head to rest his cheek further against her side. She smiled down at him and stroked a hand over his head. It was nice to be able to touch him like this - to give comfort.
"I am glad you are here too," she whispered. Down the corridor she heard someone wailing in despair. She had been more than surprised to see John react to the Sweet Grain treatment like this. For she had imagined that like Halling he would have been forced to relive painful times from his past, and she knew John had more than a few. She had seen pain in his eyes that being trapped in this galaxy had only added to. She regretted that he felt trapped here, yet she could not deny her guilty pleasure that he was here. She did not like herself for being glad of his misfortune, but at the same time she had always believed in moving with the flow of life. She had tried to flow with the knowledge that he did not want her as a woman, only as a friend and colleague. But, it remained difficult for her to deny what she felt for him and as he lay here totally at ease and trusting in her, she wished they shared more.
She stroked over his head again and drew in the unique scent of John. "I am sorry you can not return home, John," she whispered to him.
He shifted a little, settling his body a little further in her direction and one of his hands slid across her legs sliding down to the far side of her thighs, and he hugged her to him. A small thrill went through her at the touch, the heat of his hand penetrating through her trousers to her skin beneath. "We'll get through it," he muttered against her side. She smiled down at him, seeing his sleepy dreamy face, his long dark eye lashes lying against his cheeks and she heard him humming again.
Then he began to sing once again, his voice sleepily cheerful.
"You can tell by the way I use my walk I'm a woman's man, no time to talk." He giggled that deep throaty sound again and Teyla grinned at him in amusement.
"Stayin' alive," he sang out into the room.
--------
Lorne
He had not had a good day. Now he sat in a room filled with other people who also looked like they had had the worse day of their life. Most of those who had exited the main clinic areas, hurrying through the recovery room without stopping, had looked alright, besides looking exhausted and anxious to leave. Those that remained around him looked haunted.
He wanted to wait for John and Teyla, though he also was quite happy to remain in recovery for a while as well. Haunting images of the treatment's affects lingered. If it had not been for Fera's presence he wasn't sure that he could have gotten through that experience. Tortured by invisible enemies and terrified memories of his past he had remained squeezed into the corner of his private room, with Fera by his side. He wasn't sure how long he had been in that room, but when finally his mind had seemed to return to him, and his senses had stopped burning so intensely, he had felt deeply embarrassed. Fera had sat with him on the bed and they had talked a little and he had shared some stories from his past. She had held him and her soft supportive words had helped.
He turned to look at Fera napping lightly beside him, her back against the cool stone wall. He owed her big time and she had said she would consider how he could best repay her, her eyes sparkling. That sounded interesting, but the joking couldn't hide the fact that he knew he would have a few interesting nightmares after this.
"Evan." He looked up to see Teyla walking into the recovery room. She looked very tired, but was smiling. Fera stirred beside him and they both stood up. Lorne was looking to get out of here as quickly as possible.
"How's John?" He asked.
Teyla looked back and they watched John step through into the recovery room rather slowly and he smiled at him. The man looked slightly drunk.
"How you feeling?" Lorne asked him as John arrived into the small huddle.
John's hair was standing up in spikes, even more so than normal and he rubbed a hand over his face as his blinked slowly. He looked like he had been sleeping for hours…after taking something very strong.
"Better. Tired," John replied his voice deep and a little slurry.
Lorne narrowed his eyes at him. "You okay?"
"The doctor said it would wear off soon," Teyla replied for him. "He had one of the more relaxed reactions to the medicine."
Lorne experienced a vivid flash of how he had felt in that room and quickly squashed it down. "Oh?"
"Made me a little stoned," John supplied waving his hand to suggest he had only been slightly affected. That the gesture made him waver on his feet counteracted that meaning. Teyla and Fera both put a supportive hand on John's back to stop him falling backwards. "I'm good," John told them as he pulled himself up straight. "Let's go home."
"Sounds good," Lorne replied with feeling. Together the four of them turned towards the clinic exit and filed out into the sunlight outside.
"Not that I mean Earth of course," John added from the back of their line. "I mean Athos. Though, it's not actually Athos. Or is it? It's got Athosians on it," there was a chuckle at that.
Lorne looked over his shoulder at his commanding officer. "You sure they gave him the same thing as the rest of us?"
Teyla nodded with a controlled smile on her face. "He was explaining how colours tasted earlier."
Lorne shook his head at that and continued stomping his heavy tired body away from the clinic towards the Gate in the distance.
"Of course home was really Atlantis for a long time," John continued to nobody in particular. "So, technically I suppose I could mean any of the three."
"Sir," Lorne called back to him.
"Yes, Major?" John replied automatically.
"You're starting to sound like McKay."
There was a pause before the protest. "Hey!"
--------
TBC
NB - Lyrics quoted were taken from Johnny Cash's versions of 'Solitary Man'. 'In My Life' and 'Hurt', as well as from the Bee Gee's 'Stayin' Alive'.