Thank you to all my lovely reviewers. I'm glad you wanted more. Well, it's time for some recovery I think and a little TLC. But is it just the end of the beginning or the beginning of the end?? This chapter inevitably is seen from more than one perspective.
I am Colonel John Sheppard, Military Commander of Atlantis. I have a wife called Catherine, Cat for short, and a daughter called Mona, shortened from Monica. My closest friends are Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan and Rodney McKay.
I am Colonel John Sheppard, Military Commander of Atlantis. I have a wife called Catherine, Cat for short, and a daughter called Mona, shortened from Monica. My closest friends are Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan and Rodney McKay.
The mantra ran round his brain. He knew who he was but he didn't feel like him. And that was the most difficult thing to explain to his family and friends and he hadn't even tried. The face in the mirror, though thinner than usual, was still the same, but the eyes looking out of it saw something slightly off centre, not quite right. The hair was still speckled with grey and was even beginning to grow back over the healing wound. Vanity hoped that it would cover the scar. John ran his fingers over the place where the bullet had entered his skull and winced, but at least the discomfort was something tangible for him to grasp. Memories of the events on the mainland were sparse and came to him in flashes of still images rather than a linked sequence and there was nothing of just before he was shot or afterwards. Even now, he found it difficult to remember what he had said or done yesterday. Cat would sit with him, patiently waiting for him to be awake because he found it impossible to be so for more than a couple of hours at a time, and she would recount the story of what had happened from beginning to end. He knew that she thought he couldn't remember being told, but it wasn't that. Every time, he was able to add another piece to the broken jigsaw that was his memory.
Sometimes he felt so angry that he wanted to punch the lights out of anyone who happened to be near him at the time but he tried not to direct it at anyone. So, when his friends visited him, he laughed at their jokes and joined in with their conversations and they seemed to be convinced that he was almost 'back to normal'. Jennifer appeared to be pleased at his progress, something about following protocols, and he listened carefully to what she and the medical staff had to say about him, carefully taking note of what the next 'stage' was expected to be.
What was missing from his life, no was a great big gaping hole, was his daughter. He hadn't seen her and desperately needed to hold the little girl in his arms. Cat had tried to fend off his questions for several days and had finally told him the 'truth', that Mona had been scared by how he had looked in intensive care, but that she was doing everything she could to persuade her to visit. He knew there was more to it that that, though. If he didn't feel 'himself' then he suspected that his super empathic daughter would have picked up on it. Ironically, he also felt that contact with her might just make him feel a little closer to the old John Sheppard: it wouldn't be the first time that she had been able to help one of her parents to heal.
A voice broke his reverie. 'Good morning, Colonel. How are you feeling today? Time for your usual bloods and checks, I'm afraid.' John had developed quite a bond with Alan Bowman, the young nurse who he had, apparently, kicked around ICU not so long ago, but today his mood was one of his darker ones and he really didn't feel like talking.
'Right! That's if you can find a bit of me that isn't like a pin cushion.' He winced as Alan finally found a vein and took yet another phial of blood before settling back into his pillow moodily.
Alan Bowman recognised the symptoms. It was about time that his irascible patient went home. There was only so much that the medical staff could do and, assuming that John had the all clear today as far as infections were concerned, he knew that he would be back in the arms of the lovely Catherine very soon. As with many of the men in the city, of all ages, he had a bit of a 'thing' for the beautiful Mrs Sheppard and he would be sorry not to see her daily but he was certain that she was the best medication for The Colonel now. Also, he knew that there was a long way to go before his patient was fully recovered and that he would never do so in the infirmary. He would be sure to have a conversation with Dr Keller as soon as possible. So, he left John sitting up grumpily in bed, eyes firmly shut to the cruel world that was keeping him there.
As he did, Cat was just arriving for her morning visit. 'How's the worst patient in the world this morning, Alan?' she whispered to him.
'Well, Doctor Sheppard! I would say on the bad side of moody today. He needs a bit of cheering up, I think!' She watched as he headed towards Jennifer Keller, then sighing turned back towards John's room.
She glanced past the half-open door. He was either asleep or pretending to be, so she quickly took a detour to Jennifer's office. The slight doctor was busy looking over her computer, with Nurse Alan standing behind her and they seemed to be in some discussion.
Cat cleared her throat. 'Good morning, Jennifer. So, anything new I should know about my husband?'
Jennifer turned and smiled. 'It looks like I can finally get rid of him and passes on the responsibility to you, Cat. There are no signs of infection and the wound is healing well. I think it's time he went home, don't you?'
This was both the moment she'd been waiting for and the one that she dreaded. In the infirmary, he was safe and if anything went wrong there was someone on hand to help or if he had one if his 'funny moments' someone to reassure her that it was quite normal. And, she would need to have another difficult conversation with Mona. With John home, there was no way she could keep up the pretence about what their daughter felt, and she didn't want him to be more hurt than he already was by Mona's refusal to visit.
With a sigh, she lowered her shoulders and took a deep breath, then put on her shining 'John' face, forcing the smile that really didn't want to come. 'Right! Can I be the one to give him the good news?'
John was sitting on the bed, long legs stretched so that his feet dipped over the bottom. Not for the first time did Cat wonder why on earth they didn't make these beds long enough for anyone over standard height. On the couple of times she'd been to visit Ronon in the infirmary, he'd looked even more ridiculous and they'd eventually put a flat stool at the end of his bed to ease his discomfort. This morning, although there was a deep scowl across his forehead and he had his eyes firmly shut, she looked so much more like 'her' John. He'd made more of an effort with his hair and it was sticking up in its usual rebellious fashion, the only flattened piece being the square dressing over his head wound. Yes, he was even thinner than usual, but sitting down he still looked stronger and fitter than a few days ago. She knew that standing up was a different matter and that was when his frailty most showed and most annoyed him. She also knew that he wasn't really asleep and suspected that this would be a day to tiptoe carefully around his moods.
'Good morning, sweetheart,' she said, moving to his right hand side and leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips.
Reluctantly, his eyes flickered open and momentarily there was a familiar look of attraction for her before he shut it away and it was replaced by the usual neutral expression that the hazel eyes wore these days and the brow furrowed even further.
She took another breath. 'I have good news. Jennifer says you can go home. If you want, we can organise it for later on today? Isn't that great?'
The forehead smoothed slightly and again there was a glimmer of something in his eyes, but what he felt was expressed more evidently in the simple exclamation, 'thank God!.' She smiled into his eyes and gently stroked his arm. 'I'll be back later. Just need to make sure the old place is ready for you. I...I can't wait for you to be home. Mona and I will cook you a lovely dinner and we'll have a private celebration tonight. I'm sure there will be others who'll want to join in later, but this one's for us.' At the mention of Mona, the frown returned in force and he shut her eyes to her again. 'Okay, sweetie, I'll be back this afternoon.' And she leant forward again and kissed his brow.
John watched as his wife left the room. Why did he find it so difficult to open up to her? When she was near him he still felt the astonishing attraction for her that he had always, but it was like there was a barrier that was stopping him expressing it. Painfully, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There next to him waited the walking frame that he had to use to even cross to the bathroom. But not today. Today he would walk out of the infirmary unaided and show everyone that Colonel John Sheppard was back, even though he needed some convincing of that fact himself. To stand he had to turn around and put both hands on the bed, then push himself carefully upright, but this time he didn't collect the frame, but shuffled to the end of the bed without it. Instantly, Alan was at his shoulder.
'Um, Colonel, what do you think you are doing?'
John frowned at the young nurse. 'What does it look like I'm doing? Going for my morning run? I am not walking out of this place today with that stupid frame. Let me go.' The last words were definitely an order, even if the steely stare didn't tell him, and Alan automatically pulled back. In any case, determination was just what his patient needed to recover. With painful slowness, John put one tentative foot in front of him and began to walk across the room, with Alan just inches behind, ready to catch if necessary. By the time he had traversed the five metres or so to the bathroom, he was pale and sweating with the exertion and had to lean against the wall to recover, but the look of sheer, almost childish, delight on his face as he turned to his nurse told him everything. Yes, physically John Sheppard would recover and that would, at least, give the rest of him a chance.
Back in their quarters, Cat was having battles of her own. She was determined to talk to Mona and equally determined that his daughter would be home to welcome him. They were sitting on the little girl's bed, Mona turned towards her but looking firmly over her shoulder or above her head, anywhere but making eye contact. 'Listen to me carefully, Mona. This is very, very important. Dada's coming home today and he needs you to be here when he does and he needs you to help me look after him.' Silence. 'He is a lot better since you saw him, you know. He's even beaten Uncle Rodney at chess again!' More silence. Perhaps this needed a slightly different route. How much their daughter knew about her 'special' abilities she didn't know; for goodness sake, how much did they know? 'I think that dada needs you to help him more than that, sweetie. I think that you need to help dada to heal in a way that I can't.' A little shift of the head. 'Do you remember when you helped me when I was very sick and you helped me to remember things?' This time Mona's eyes darted to Cat's and met them. There, to Cat's surprise, was not just a remembrance but also fear: it had never occurred to Cat that she might actually be frightened by whatever this strange power was she possessed. 'Sweetie, it's alright. I know it's scary, but I'll be here and I'm sure you want dada back the way he was before?' In front of her, her strong and determined daughter crumpled and began to sob, tears that she'd held in since John's return home. And then, as well as she could, she told her mother about how she'd sensed that John was not himself and how frightened she'd been by that and how awful it had been to see him pinned out in the ICU and how terrible she'd felt about not seeing him and about how much she missed him and, finally, about how she would do everything she could to help dada be himself again. For some time, the two hugged each other for mutual comfort, before they, almost as one, straightened and gave each other the look that in the future would become known as the look of the Sheppard women: the one that said, 'right then, to business, and let no-one get in our way!'
The morning passed with tedious monotony and slowness as John readied himself to go home. Inside, he was a bundle of childish excitement, but a series of checks and visitations had somewhat dampened the mood. Psychiatrists, nurses, doctors, Rodney's hyperactivity, Ronon's loyal but today irritating silences, Teyla's care and sensitivity, Jennifer's attempt at silly jokes and Woolsey's form filling and protocols had all served to bring back the moody frown to his face. All were in the way of the one thing he wanted most: home and his family. In his head, he had carefully visualised his return: the door opening into their quarters, welcome banners across the wall and his little girl jumping enthusiastically into his arms. Cat had been back briefly with a bundle of clothes, which turned out to be his black uniform. She had known instinctively that he needed to leave this place as military commander and that the uniform would give him the extra strength he needed. Whether he could walk all the way to the nearest transporter was another matter and Alan had promised to be at his shoulder to give him a hand if necessary. Behind him would be Ronon, ready to leap forward to help: he was already feeling rather put out that the young nurse had 'taken his place' as his friend's prospective prop and support. Rodney and Teyla had insisted that they were there too, to witness the 'great event' as Rodney had snarked, but at the other end, beyond the transporter it would be just he and Cat.
Eventually, after his final so-called meal, again mostly consumed by Rodney McKay who talked incessantly through eating it about how he shouldn't really be because John needed the sustenance, but if it was going to go to waste then it was a shame to let it, the time came to go home. He stood up carefully and straightened the pressed uniform, revelling in its crispness which was so much a contrast to the soft t-shirts and sweat pants he'd been wearing, and moved his toes around inside the shiny but worn military boots. He smiled as he did, which caused Rodney to look at him quizzically, but John didn't think that Rodney McKay would understand if he told him that the familiar dents and ridges in those boots made him feel more like himself than anything yet.
Cat stood by her husband and took it all in. She registered the slight smile and knew why. She understood the power of his uniform. And she smiled herself, a smile that remained so stuck to her face that it hurt, but not in a bad way: this one wasn't the forced smile of the hospital visitor but of the loving wife who was finally seeing some tangible evidence of her husband's recovery. Then slowly, the little train headed out of the infirmary, Alan and Ronon both ready to leap to John's help if needed, and walked slowly to the transporter. Although, they'd requested that people kept away to avoid crowding John, some were there on their own business and each one smiled and saluted him as he passed.
Once the transporter doors closed and re-opened on their level, he allowed her to take his arm, and she proudly walked next to him, knowing the effort it was taking. The tension emanating from him was palpable and inwardly Cat crossed everything that Mona would be as good as her word. They paused before the door. She felt him take a deep breath and letting go of her arm, stand up straight. Then, the doors opened and there was Mona, in her best blue dress, green eyes shining with expectation. There was a moment's pause and then John put his arms out to his daughter, who ran over to him and wrapped both arms around his legs, quivering with emotion. Cat glanced down and met Mona's eye. Oh, yes, there was more there than 'glad to have dada back'. There was doubt and fear too, but John didn't seem to have noticed. Gently, she touched his arm and he looked in her direction, eyes bright with tears of joy and relief and guided the two of them to the sofa where they sat for some time, silently holding each other, neither having the right words to express how much or what they were feeling.
Cat busied herself with preparing the meal. Her roast dinners were famous across the city and the idea of the three of them sitting down to such a normal event seemed right. What John, no what they all needed now, was normal, usual and routine. She had demons of her own to deal with too and had a nasty feeling that they would need to be faced fairly soon. All her energies had been spent in John's recovery but sometimes images of Dane's body floating face up in the ocean came back to haunt her, as did the death of Janet Donaldson. She couldn't escape the feeling that this was all her fault; that she should have been more generous to Dane. But, going too far down that road was dangerous especially because it would make her ultimately responsible for not just two deaths but the awful injury suffered by the man she loved more than anyone or anything in the universe.
A sound behind her brought her back to the moment. 'Mama? Are you alright? Dada is sleeping. '
Cat turned to her daughter and tried to put on a smile that she knew was pointless. Mona could see through any attempt at pretence. Still, she cleared her throat nervously, 'and, how is dada?'
'Dada is very upset. He does not feel like dada. He doesn't want to tell us because it would upset us too.' Mona paused. 'I can help. We can help him, mama.'
The grown up look in her daughter's eyes shocked Cat. It was as though she were the child being comforted by the adult, not the other way round. Slowly she walked over to her and knelt down, placing her hands on Mona's shoulders. 'What can we do, sweetie? What can I do?'
Instead of speaking, Mona shrugged off Cat's hands and took one of them in her smaller one. With a look she guided Cat back into the other room and towards John, who was sleeping on the large sofa, the one they'd bought not long after they married for those important sofa moments, head leaning back and face frown free. For the first time in days, he looked more like her John and, as ever, the years fell from him as the cares and responsibilities slipped off in sleep. His chest was gently rising and falling and Cat caught her breath: she remembered that last moment just as they were rescued when that chest had no breath left in it and she thought he was dead. She had a feeling that there would be many occasions in the future where she woke next to him, just to check that there was still that movement there.
Mona continued to guide her to John, then letting go of Cat's hand, knelt down in front of him, showing Cat with her eyes that she should do the same. Cat watched her daughter in what appeared to be slow motion, as she put one hand in John's right one. The she took Cat's left hand. Cat just 'knew' what to do next. Taking Mona's hand, she grasped his other hand to form a chain between them and shut her eyes. Behind her eyes, was a swirling whirlpool shimmering blue and green, building and gyrating, flashing with reflected light from some unseen source, until it became the centre of her; she was swirling maelstrom; she was water and wind, ocean and air; heat began to build inside her and she could feel warm vibrations running through her. Despite a growing nausea, it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation: it just felt right. And then, inside her, in front of her, she wasn't sure, she saw, or maybe she just felt, Mona and John and she understood. She felt him slowly shift from the stranger with a head injury to the man who knew who he was, who she loved. There was nothing to 'see', but later she described it as watching two blurred images of John conjoining and uniting to make one clear and strong one, for the want of having any other way to explain what had happened. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she opened her eyes and looked into John's. This time there was more. Not just a man trying to find himself. Not someone who was putting on a brave face, but that strength that was all his. The eyes flashed green as she met them as though the self was settling back into its home. Next to her, Mona was quivering, but smiling tearfully at her father and Cat felt through her daughter the absolute knowledge that John was back.
The three sat in a huddle for some time, unspeaking. And, they would say little more about what had happened in the future, none of them having the kind of character that spoke about things that mattered deeply. After a while, Cat simply stood up and said, 'well, I suppose I'd better check on dinner, don't you?'
And after the meal and after Mona had gone to bed, much more gratefully and peacefully than usual, John and Cat went to bed. For a long time, they lay next to each other, staring at each other, holding each other. Then slowly and gently, they moved together, this time finding a physical connection, their bodies fitting together in the way that happens when couples have been together for some time. John fell asleep in her arms and she looked down at the tousled head of dark hair and smiled. She felt the warmth of his breath on her breasts and the heaviness of his arm across her belly. And finally, she allowed herself to sleep, one that didn't have dreams of dead bodies and deep water. At least, not for now.
***
On a distant planet, unseen, a small device lit up, glowing then flashing green in the darkness. Energised, it seemed to make a small humming sound before it silenced once more.
So, John's on the road to recovery, but there are some loose ends to tie up, some funerals to have and some East Pier scenes to describe, as well as the small matter of the mysterious device! Please R & R if you want more.