JUSTICE

CHAPTER 17

He could hear the words, understood what Carson was saying, but Rodney was having a tough time taking it in. He couldn't believe Sheppard had come through so much only to return home to die. John's life was hanging by a thread. He wasn't dead, and where there was life there was hope, but Carson's expression said it all.

Rodney had known the Scot a long time and could read him like one of the science books in his lab. He didn't know if it was a national trait, or just endemic to the man in front of him. With Carson sometimes it wasn't so much about what he said, as what he didn't say that told the real story. His friend was worried, and when Carson Beckett looked that concerned, it wasn't a good thing.

Carson looked beat. The tan he'd acquired on vacation was all but gone. His blue eyes looked huge in his pale face, and when he dragged off his cap, his sweat drenched hair was clamped against his head. They were all anxious, but it had been Carson who'd spent the last seven hours putting humpty dumpty back together again. The bags under his eyes had bags. His exhaustion clearly visible in the deep grooves around his eyes and mouth.

They had a standing joke. He would mock the field of medicine, call it voodoo compared to astrophysics but Carson knew he didn't mean it – at least he hoped so. Rodney did believe his field was superior. It was because of his genius the Replicator home world was now just a pile of space debris. Of all his amazing achievements that plan gave him the greatest satisfaction. He was proud that because of his actions not only was a dangerous enemy destroyed for good, but billions of lives had been saved in the process. Except right now his brains meant nothing. If John lived it would be because of Carson's skill, and his own determination to survive.

He couldn't get the image of John out of his head. Carson had warned them what to expect, but nothing prepared him for the sight of his friend's torn emaciated body lying in that gloomy corridor. At first he hadn't recognized him. It was only when John had spoken Rodney realized it was him. The only thing familiar was his hair. Parts of it still stood up, but even the thick dark mane didn't have the same defiance as usual. It looked limp. The longer length made it floppy, falling down as a fringe that stuck to the livid bruises on his raw sunburnt skin. Sheppard had always been on the skinny side, but there was thin, and there was thin. His face was gaunt. His protruding ribcage visible even under the mass of ripped flesh.

Carson had been standing when he'd delivered Sheppard's prognosis. When he finished, the Scot slumped down onto a chair. He jumped up when he saw a blood splattered Ronon walk into the room.

"Hells bells! Good God, man – sit down. Tell me where you're hurt."

Ronon didn't move. "I'm okay, Doc…It's not my blood."

There was a stunned silence. Teyla and Rodney looked at each other but it was Beckett who spoke.

"Did you kill him?"

Ronon glanced at a clot of blood on his arm in distaste. He flicked it onto the floor. "Nah…I promised Sheppard I wouldn't. I just tore him up a little."

Rodney went pale. "A little! You look like an extra from a Rambo movie."

The Scot's face was expressionless as he looked at the Satedan. "Where is Rualin now?"

"Kilund is taking care of him. He's also contacted his central command. They're sending someone over to speak to Woolsey."

Teyla tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A flush had grown on her cheeks and the tips of her ears were red. "I understand why you did it, Ronon, but perhaps it was not wise. John would not wish you taking his place in the prison."

Ronon shrugged. "I won't. The guards were locked up. The only one who saw me was Kilund. He didn't help…He didn't try to stop me either."

Carson started taking off his scrubs. "Right then…I suppose I'd better head back to the prison."

"Why?" Ronon grunted. He folded his arms sending blood spatter everywhere, and stared at the Scot suspiciously.

"To clean up your mess, laddie. If Rualin is in the state I think he is, he's going to need medical attention."

As Carson went to walk out Ronon extended his arm to block his path. "No…You saw what he did to Sheppard! John didn't get any medical attention - so why the hell should he?"

Ronon's face was puce with anger, but the Scot didn't back down. "Because I took an oath…because we are better than the likes of him. And because I don't want my friend spending the rest of his life in that hellish place for murdering that waste of space." Carson paused, he looked drained. The strain of the long hours piecing John back together showed in his face. "Look, son, I understand you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine…but two wrongs don't make a right."

Teyla and Rodney exchanged a worried glance. Rodney knew the Athosian was better at handling this kind of stuff, so he gave her a nod. If he was honest he wasn't sure how he felt about what Ronon had done, but he didn't want his friends coming to blows over it. Rualin wasn't worth it. He was relieved when Teyla picked up on the signal and went to stand beside the two men.

"I understand and I partly agree with what you have said, Carson, however…it is regrettable but sometimes people like Rualin can only learn by example." As Ronon started to smirk, she turned to her blood splattered team mate. "Carson is also right, Ronon. John would not want you to go to prison because of exacting revenge on his behalf."

Teyla's words of wisdom fell on deaf ears as Ronon continued glaring at the medic, blocking Carson's path. Rodney would never admit this to anyone, but even he acknowledged there were a few minor failings in the Rodney McKay gene pool. Diplomacy wasn't one of his talents, but as they'd reached an impasse he figured it wouldn't hurt to give it a try. He took a deep breath and dived in. "Listen to her, Ronon. We've just got Sheppard back. He's safe…John's on the mend. Besides…I really don't want to break in another team mate."

The atmosphere was electric, the tension unbearable. After what seemed like an eternity an edgy Ronon finally put down his arm and moved aside. As Carson went to pass, the Satedan put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Fine…Go…do what you have to do - but don't bring him back here."

Their eyes locked and Carson nodded. "Agreed. I'll take everything I need with me. For the record…I don't want Rualin under my roof any more than you do."

ooooOoooo

Richard watched the delegation from Flenda go through the 'gate with a mix of anger and relief. It had been a difficult meeting, and somewhere along the line his role had morphed from diplomat to teacher.

Initially the General had been furious to discover his guards had been locked in their own prison. He'd been even less amused to find out the inmates were enjoying the hospitality of the Atlantis infirmary. However when he'd been taken to see the prisoners, and witnessed for himself the sight of the men his Commander had reduced to living corpses, he'd gone pale.

It wasn't just their condition that had alarmed him. According to the records he'd immediately realised there was over a third of the prison population missing, men who were unaccounted for. The General reluctantly confessed he'd dismissed the rumors. He'd heard of men who hadn't returned to their units at the end of their sentence. Families who'd reported missing loved ones - husbands, brothers and sons who hadn't come home. Up till now he'd accepted Rualin's story the individuals concerned must have gone AWOL. Now the big picture was coming into view and it wasn't pretty.

After that his attitude changed. Gone was the indignant bluster of before. The man had still maintained an air of arrogance, but in the end he'd thanked him for their help and had agreed an overhaul of the prison was overdue.

Richard hoped so. He'd met men like him before. Men, who were happy to leave the dirty work to others. Commanders who turned a blind eye to atrocities committed in the name of National Security. Now, faced with the consequences of his 'hands off' management style, the General was confronted with the fact Rualin had systematically killed many of the prisoners by his brutal regime. This was without a doubt a wake-up call of the worst possible kind.

It was a horrifying thought, and Woolsey suddenly felt the need for a long soak in a very hot bath. Unfortunately that was something else the Ancients hadn't seen the need for, so a shower would need to suffice. Before he could indulge, there was something he wanted to do first.

Despite the number of patients the infirmary was quiet. His eyes rested upon the chains taken from the occupants. The General hadn't asked for their return so Richard was going to make the decision for him. They would be disposed of at the earliest opportunity. While these men were here they would be treated humanely. If the new regime wanted to shackle them again, Atlantis would play no part in their oppression.

The armed guards nodded as he walked by. They were a necessary precaution because he couldn't ignore the fact some of the prisoners had committed crimes of violence. Nevertheless seeing them now, they looked more like victims than perpetrators.

When he walked into the ICU Teyla was sitting by Sheppard's bed. Richard had only seen him briefly when he'd first arrived back. The condition of his military commander shocked him. Swathed in bandages, and with tubes going in and out of his body it was hard to recognize the man lying deathly still on the bed. Only the shock of black hair gave a clue to the occupant.

Richard felt his mouth go dry and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn't consider himself an emotional man, but he genuinely liked John Sheppard. It was unsettling, not to mention upsetting, to see this vibrant force of nature fighting for his life.

As he approached the bed Teyla looked up. She looked sad. "Good evening, Mr Woolsey."

"Good evening, Teyla. How is he?"

Her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. "Doctor Beckett has put him into an induced coma. Carson believes this will give his body a greater chance of fighting off the infection which is causing the fever."

"I see…" Richard did. He didn't know much about medicine, but knew enough to know that wasn't good news.

He looked towards Carson's office. Teyla followed his gaze. "If you are looking for Doctor Beckett, he is not here at present."

"Do you know where he is, Teyla? I would like to speak to him."

Richard sensed rather than saw Teyla's discomfort. She kept her composure but a faint flush colored her cheeks. "He has returned to Flenda. I understand Commander Rualin met with an accident."

They locked eyes, and her expression told him everything he didn't want to know. His blood ran cold. Richard let out a long sigh. "The delegation from Flenda high command has just left. Is this…accident something I would be best not knowing about?"

"Aye…I'd say so, Mr Woolsey."

Carson acknowledged the occupants in the room but walked straight over to the bed. Richard watched as the medic zoned everything out while he checked the machines keeping Sheppard alive.

The Scot put a hand on Teyla's shoulder. "You can leave him to me now, lass. I'll sit with the Colonel for a while." When she looked uncertain, Carson gave her a small smile. "Go on...take a break, get some rest and give that wee boy of yours a cuddle. By the look of you I think you need it."

Teyla returned the smile then whispered to the unconscious man. "I will be back to see you tomorrow, John." She swept back the hair from his face and squeezed his hand before getting to her feet. "Good night, Carson…Mr Woolsey."

Even in the dim lights Richard could see Carson was exhausted. The medic was dead on his feet. He didn't know what he was going to say until the offer slipped out. "You're tired, Carson. Why don't you take some of your own advice and get some rest. I can sit with Colonel Sheppard for a while."

Carson frowned. Richard could tell the medic didn't want to leave the Colonel, but he wasn't a diplomat for nothing. "Tell you what…why don't you have a nap on the couch in your office? The nursing staff is coming in and out anyway, but if anything changes in-between time, I'll come and get you."

"Aye…well…I have to admit forty winks sounds good. I think I will – thank you, Mr Woolsey."

As Carson raked a hand through his hair, Richard saw a speck of blood on the sleeve of his jacket. "Exactly how bad was this…accident?"

"Bad enough…I've sorted the Commander out and given Kilund instructions how to care for him. Rualin should be okay in the long term, but if there are any problems, I've asked Kilund to let me know."

Richard had heard the 'gate staff commenting on Ronon's appearance when he'd returned to Atlantis. The Satedan wasn't in any of the beds, and he hadn't received a report indicating he'd suffered an injury. That left only one other scenario, and it was a can of worms he wasn't prepared to open. Ignorance was bliss. What he didn't know, he couldn't lie about. If the truth did eventually come out it didn't matter. He wasn't prepared to allow another member of his expedition to spend time in Flenda.

He could feel the first stirrings of a headache start to blossom. Richard ignored it. He could stand a little discomfort. Right now it was more important Carson got a break. "Thank you, Carson…I have a feeling you may have just circumvented a diplomatic incident."

In response, Carson raised an eyebrow. "Good night, Mr Woolsey." The doctor went to walk away but stopped, went over to a cupboard and came back with a couple of Tylenol. He placed them in his hand. "For the headache."

The two men exchanged a knowing glance before Carson retired into his office. Within minutes the sound of snoring drifted into the room.

Richard unzipped his jacket and sat awkwardly on the hard chair. He wished he'd had the foresight to bring his laptop with him, or even a data pad. Then again, he'd never intended taking part in 'Sheppard watch.'

Even before he came to Atlantis, Richard had heard about the team's dedication to their leader. Since arriving, he'd witnessed it first-hand.

At first he'd thought the silent vigil quaint, but looking at the broken body of his military commander he was starting to understand why. John Sheppard was a strong man with an even stronger will, but sometimes even the strongest needed the comforting presence of a friend to pull them through…

ooooOoooo

TBC

So now we know what Ronon was up to. Was he right? Did Rualin deserve a taste of his own medicine? I'll leave that decision up to you. However it hasn't changed John's situation. Sheppard is still very ill.

Many thanks for all the reviews! I am chuffed to bits you're still enjoying the story.

At this point I want to say a very special thanks to my friend and beta Sherry 57. Thanks to Sherry's encouragement this fic is a little longer...and I hope better...than I had originally intended - thank you hon!

I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter too - and please review. I love to know what you think!