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THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 2

When Carson first entered the dimly lit quarters, John looked grey through a sheen of sweat. His agony evident in his strained expression, and the white knuckles gripping tightly onto the sheets. The journey to the infirmary one of the longest in his medical career, as he struggled just to keep his patient alive. Now however, Carson was at least satisfied he'd gained some control of the situation, as the colonel was settled in intensive care, where Sheppard's face now looked less pinched than before, although his friend was still not out of danger yet.

In many ways Carson considered diagnostic medicine like putting together the pieces of a puzzle. In this case, the symptoms of an erratic heart beat with severe pain running from the chest down the left arm, combined with breathlessness, were all clues indicating heart failure. Yet, Carson knew John's fever and rising temperature could also mean pneumonia, or a virus, perhaps even an infection - so what the hell was it?

Experience gained as a young medic, during his rotation in the cardiac unit of the Glasgow Royal Infirmary, had taught him it wasn't uncommon for a normally fit, healthy male to get heart failure. Although given the individual concerned, that was one conclusion he didn't want to jump too until all the results came back. Carson only too aware, that if John had suffered a heart attack, whilst it might not finish his military career, it would more than likely land him in a desk job, therefore ending his tenure on Atlantis.

The heart monitor beeped softly affirming proof of life, and as Carson watched the slow rise and fall of John's chest, he felt frustration build up in his own. The colonel was a good man, as well as a good friend but sometimes, it make him angry at the careless way he treated his own health. Time and time again, he'd tried to impress upon John the need to visit the infirmary whenever he started to feel unwell. He tried to convince him, that most conditions if reported early, could be dealt with by the use of medication and bed rest, usually in his quarters. Yet, regardless of his warnings, the reticent man only sought help when the malady had already taken hold, usually too late for him to do more than manage the symptoms, while he languished in an infirmary bed.

Carson guessed that for some reason, one he'd never been able to fathom, Lt Colonel John Sheppard either had an intense dislike of doctors, or he felt succumbing to illness was a sign of weakness – perhaps both. For years, he'd tried to get to the bottom of it, and had even hinted once he should pay a visit to Kate. Except any prying he'd made to unearth the secret was always shut down, along with the expression on John's face, as it was clear that particular suggestion was as unwelcome as a bad smell. Either way, circumstances had once again taken precedence over his curiosity, as John's reasons for staying silent on this occasion would need to remain a mystery, at least for now, until once again hopefully, he got him back on his feet.

"Doctor Beckett. I have the results of Colonel Sheppard's blood work for you." Lesley, one of the lab techs, a pretty girl with short, dark bobbed hair, had appeared by his side, and handed him a clipboard. Her pale, blue eyes clouding over as she stole a quick look at the sick man lying on the bed.

"Thanks, lass…" Carson turned to thank her, but felt guilty as he'd been too intent on reading the results to realise she'd already left.

After going over the findings for the third time, his eyes flicked from the board to his patient, but the smile which played on his lips quickly faded. The news, while better than he expected, still couldn't be called good and despite one hurdle being crossed, there was still a serious matter to be overcome.

ooooOoooo

"Infective Endocarditis? Can't you speak English, Carson? Even I'm struggling to understand what it means, let alone Teyla and Ronon here." Rodney protested, nodding towards his team mates. His initial relief that John hadn't taken a heart attack, now tempered by the realisation that, by the sounds of things, his friend was still seriously ill.

"If you'd given me a minute I was going to explain, Rodney," Beckett replied, clearly miffed, as he slumped down on the seat next to Teyla. "Colonel Sheppard is suffering from an infection that has affected parts of the endocardium – the tissue that lines the inside of the heart chambers. If the condition isn't identified quickly, or left untreated, it can permanently damage the valves of the heart, possibly leading to death, but in the Colonel's case, I think we've managed to diagnose the illness in time. It is imperative however that I find out what kind of infection caused this, and where he caught it from."

Rodney felt dizzy, as the room started to sway. John had seemed okay, apart from looking drawn and pale the last time he'd saw him, so he didn't have a clue where his friend could have picked up a bug. He was worried sick, as it seemed that within minutes the hope they'd just been given, had just as quickly, been taken away.

"Are you alright, son?" He peeled his eyes off the floor to see Carson standing over him, looking concerned.

"I'm fine…It's just been a while since I've eaten," Rodney admitted, as he caught a power bar from Ronon who then took the seat by his side.

Carson folded his arms and shook his head. "I don't need your hypoglycemia acting up now, Rodney. So get yourself to the mess hall and get something to eat…understand?"

He could see from the strained expression on the Scot's face that Carson was concerned about him, and the rebuke while sounding harsh, Rodney knew was well meant. "Sure…I will," he agreed, "but how are you going to find out where Sheppard picked up his infection?"

The doctor's searching gaze took in all of them. "Well, I was hoping one of you would know. Did the colonel mention cutting himself recently, or has anything out of the ordinary happened that might give me a clue?"

Ronon shrugged, Teyla looked sad as she shook her head, then Rodney remembered something. "Would this count? The mess were serving fish the other day, and after he got a piece of bone stuck in his gum, Sheppard needed to have it removed by the dentist. It was just before we started evacuating Alunstran."

A wide smile appeared on Beckett's face, as the Scot punched the air. "Good boy, Rodney - you're a genius!" He slapped his back. "I realise you already know that, but in this case you may just have saved the Colonel's life."

Rodney scratched his head, and squinted up at his friend, puzzled. "I'm pleased that you've finally admitted my true worth, but how come?"

"Well, mouth infections are one of the more common ways in contracting IE. If, as I suspect, Colonel Sheppard did have a lesion in his mouth, and with all the chaos caused by the evacuation didn't have time to follow through with proper after care, then the wound could very easily have become infected. It would have been a simple matter after that for the bacteria to make its way into his bloodstream." Carson replied, then turned to leave. "I'll go and have a word with Doctor Mitchell to confirm, and take a swab, but I think we may have just found the answer."

ooooOoooo

Dave was worried. He'd known from childhood John could be an island, his emotions held deep within a dark remote place where admission was strictly limited, if allowed at all, yet ever since John's near-fatal shooting, and his subsequent visit to Atlantis, they'd enjoyed a better relationship. While it wasn't quite back to the closeness they shared as kids, Dave suspected something was off, as he'd heard nothing to any of his emails and it wasn't like his brother to ignore him. John had received them, he'd checked, and while it was true his sibling was busy saving the universe, or at least Pegasus on a daily basis, he just had a sick feeling something was definitely wrong.

He snapped shut his laptop, stretched out the kinks in his stiff, aching back, then pushed back his chair and made his way over to the window. It was a tough job, with long hours, but one of the perks of being CEO was he got the biggest office with the best view. From here he could see everything, including the people on the side walk who looked more like ants scurrying around, which in a sense Dave realised wasn't far from the truth, as they were probably just as busy. As for New York itself, the city was impressive, her high rise landscape glowing, surrounded by the golden hues of the setting sun, yet no where he'd seen could compare to Atlantis. His visit to the lost city had been a revelation in so many ways. Atlantis was stunning, a technological masterpiece, more amazing than anything he could ever have imagined, but if he was honest, it was learning about its military commander that had been the biggest surprise of all.

Up until then, he'd always considered John to be a selfish SOB, a spoiled brat, who'd left him with all the responsibility while he'd stormed off to pursue his dreams. His incommunicado routine, nothing more than a ruse to avoid calling home, while he'd had to explain to a dying old man, why his prodigal son wasn't there for his final hours. Now, after learning about his life and having seen the scars littering his body, Dave felt guilty for how he'd felt back then. These days, he was only too aware what a dangerous life John led, so, in a way it wasn't surprising he feared the worst. There was just one thing that gave him some comfort, the only thing he was completely sure of – John wasn't dead. Why was he so certain? Because, as Dave had leaned from bitter experience, bad news always traveled the fastest.

Still, he also knew John had some damn good friends, one of whom he'd gotten quite close to while he was there, someone who probably worried about his brother more than he did – Carson Beckett. Before he'd left, Mr Woolsey had given his permission to use the Scot's email in case of emergencies. He had Rodney's too, but if he was going to contact anyone, it would be Carson. McKay, while a nice enough guy, rambled, and if Dave wanted information about John...well it would be good to get it before it was him who lost the will to live.

As nightfall shrouded the city in inky darkness, the twinkling neon's seemed to send the message it was time to call it a night, but Dave still hadn't decided what to do. His hand was poised over the laptop, and he didn't know whether to email his housekeeper to have dinner ready, or send a message to Beckett. The decision finally made, Dave really hoped his suspicions were wrong, even if it meant the next message he received was from one very pissed off little brother.

ooooOoooo

He hurt all over.

His chest tight and heavy, like a lead weight was pressed against it. His body aching, every single sinew and joint throbbing in time with the beat of his heart. Drenched, John was lying in a pool of sweat, his gown sticking to his skin, and he felt as sick as a dog. Waves of nausea were rolling through him, the stomach cramps getting more painful and burning with every second…

"Easy, Colonel – try not to fight it."

Vaguely aware of Carson's voice, he felt urgent hands quickly roll him on his side, as his oxygen mask was removed, and a basin placed beneath his chin. John succumbed to the misery - he had no choice, barfing up yesterday's oatmeal, then it seemed everything else that had passed his lips during the last few days. His wrenching gut igniting all his other aches to new levels of agony, leaving him breathless, gasping for air.

John heard the monitor wailing, but could only lie there, spent, as he was gently rolled back and the mask with its blessed cool air, once again put back into place. The last thing he could remember was Carson talking to him, as he'd been wheeled to the infirmary. He and Rodney had found him in his quarters, and he'd been in so much pain…

"Colonel. John! Look at me, Son." Carson commanded, and John obeyed, forcing himself to focus on the worried blue eyes staring down at him.

"Amm…I…dying?" He asked, then realised his feeble voice probably sounded like a mumble under the mask.

"No, Colonel - it just feels like it." Beckett replied, then pulled up a chair and started mopping his brow with a cold compress, it felt good.

"And in case you're wondering, you haven't had a heart attack either," Carson informed him, and the concern that had been nagging at the back of his mind, vanished, like a weight had been lifted. But John still felt like hell, and hurt almost as much as when the fierce gripping pain first hit.

"Wha…" He gasped.

"Just lie still, Colonel and let me do the talking. You have Infective Endocarditis, a virus which attacks the lining of the heart, but I'm pretty sure we've managed to catch it before it could do any lasting damage," He said, then John noticed Carson's expression grew serious, "however, you'll need to do what you're told, take the meds and plenty of rest, but provided you follow my instructions to the letter, I can't see any reason why you won't be back on light duty in a couple of months."

"Months!" John groaned, but this time it wasn't all down to the aches spiking through his body.

"Aye, lad – months. A couple if you're lucky. Make no mistake about it, Colonel you are one very sick man, and will be for quite a while, so just lie back and let others take care of you for a change – okay?" Carson gave him a pointed look, so John nodded obediently, then groaned again. This time for real, as his head felt like an ice-pick was piercing though his skull.

"Auch, I'm sorry, son. I didn't mean to blurt it out like that, but you need to understand that I can't give you a quick fix this time." Carson's brow crinkled with remorse, as he turned and gave a silent order to someone just out of sight. The next thing John became aware of was ice cold liquid seeping into his veins, and the fiery pain soon notched down to a muted ache.

"Better?" The Scot asked, and John reckoned he must have looked less strained, as Carson didn't wait for an answer, "I've given you something for the sickness too. Now Marie will get you changed out that damp gown, then I want you to get some sleep…"

"Team?" John was struggling to stay awake, but wanted to make sure his friends were okay.

Carson grunted and shook his head. "They are fine. Worried about you, but I've told them they can come round for a short visit later, if you feel up to visitors. "

"Carson - Thanks."

John didn't hear a reply, but felt a pat on his arm, then its owner walked away dimming the lights as he left. He barely felt Marie changing his gown, but the cool cotton felt good for however long his fevered body could keep the sweats at bay.

Finally alone, John realised he'd got lucky, as he knew a heart attack would have spelled the end of his stay in Atlantis, maybe even his career. Right now though, in pain, nauseous and facing a lot of downtime in his future, lucky was the last word he would use to describe the way he felt…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Poor John! But at least he's on the mend now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review, as I really like to know what you guy's think.