(no subject)
We Choose Our Joys and Sorrows
Part 2
****
Rodney cranks open the second to the last door in the final cell in a one block radius of twenty-three identical doors and falls to his knees in respite when he sees Sheppard lying before him in a damp heap of mud and twisted bones.
“Oh my god…”
Sheppard’s body is splayed out from corner to corner on a soft dirt floor secured by rope or rubber or bindings of some sort that Rodney can’t immediately identify. His head is lying on an old board partially covering a foot wide sinkhole of disgusting yellow mud. Sheppard’s hair and face are coated with the shit. Rodney shudders. It doesn’t take a genius to know what went on here.
Those fucking bastards…
Sheppard can’t move, can’t escape, and can’t see the outside world. There is only one window in the room, and it’s much too high to see through. There’s no bathroom or chair, only brick and mud and a strong stench of decay. Rodney swallows.
It’s a Dunedin version of hell.
He races to his friend’s side and tries to turn Sheppard over but he’s secured too tightly to move him much in any direction.
He shouts, “I need some help in here now!” and gropes around for the knife in his belt. “Come on John. We found you, we found you. Don’t you dare give up on me now! Give me a sign, come on, anything…”
Rodney taps his headset, repeats, “He’s here!”
Please, please, please be alive…
But if Sheppard hears him he doesn’t respond. The body before him is limp and unresponsive, bruised and pale. Rodney slices off one of the cuffs with his knife and carefully lifts Sheppard’s head out of the mud and pushes the filthy muck away from his face. He opens Sheppard’s mouth and removes a chunk of the sludge in two swipes and slides his knee under his friend’s jaw to keep him out of the wet dirt. He uses the cuff of his T-shirt to clean the mud from Sheppard’s eyes and twists it out deftly from inside his clogged ears. He leans Sheppard’s face sideways, feels for a pulse and stares.
It’s unbearable to see Sheppard this way, helpless and quiet, too damn quiet, and Rodney wants to scream and shout and blow what remains of the city to kingdom come just for daring to fuck with Sheppard’s wild chaotic hair.
When he checks for a pulse again, this time Sheppard isn’t breathing.
Oh fuck.
“I’m not going to let you die on me!” Rodney works fast. He lays John’s head back on the board and frees his other arm. He cuts loose his left leg, turns Sheppard on his back, clears more mud from his windpipe, thanks Carson Beckett for his first aid lessons, and begins CPR.
The taste of Sheppard’s mouth is an awful disgusting thing but Rodney ignores it as much as he’s able and starts rescue breathing. He inhales deeply, says a silent prayer and tries desperately to bring his friend back to life.
He babbles between compressions, “Come on Sheppard. Don’t let Caldwell down. He’s here you know, he’s on his way. Throw him another god damn curve ball. He said you’d be alive. But I doubted it. I didn’t think you’d make it. God Sheppard, please, please, please make it. Start the fuck breathing now!”
At that moment Sheppard sputters and gasps and starts coughing hard enough to spew up a lung. Rodney turns him on his side and rubs his shoulder blades gently. “That’s it…breathe. Good, oh thank god.”
Sheppard relaxes enough for Rodney to turn him onto his back. Hazel eyes struggle hard to focus past a thin veil of soot. “Rodney?” Sheppard’s voice sounds weak, barely there, and Rodney squeezes his hand tight just to prove to himself that his friend is still breathing.
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” Rodney swallows past the lump in his throat. Sheppard looks absolutely terrible but he’s alive and speaking and, well, he’s alive! “The Daedalus is in orbit…”
“Okay…” Sheppard coughs and returns a frail squeeze in Rodney’s grip, “You were right about the bad stuff happening Rodney…very bad stuff…”
Of all the things Rodney says that Sheppard simply ignores, why oh why does he choose to remember that? “Yeah, but it’s all over now.”
“Feel kind of sick…” Sheppard shudders hard and then immediately starts to vomit. Rodney quickly turns his face to the side and winces in sympathy as Sheppard heaves and heaves and heaves until he has nothing left to give. It’s pathetic and worrisome and just plain wrong.
“Christ John…” Rodney smoothes his hand across Sheppard’s cheek and wipes his mouth with a clean piece of shirt. He can’t imagine being Sheppard and suffering through this nightmare. He can’t imagine ever having the guts it takes to survive it.
“Hey, you’re freezing!” Rodney removes his jacket and places it over Sheppard’s battered shoulders. “Well of course you’re freezing. You’re lying here half naked in a pit of mud.” He sniffs the air and pulls Sheppard tighter, holding him against his chest, willing his warmth to pass through his skin and merge into Sheppard. “And you stink like a pile of manure.”
“Thanks McKay.” Sheppard says and closes his eyes, “I…knew you’d come for me…”
“Of course, of course I’d come. I’ll always come.” Rodney begins roughly and then the beam of the Daedalus envelopes them both.
****
Rodney stares at Sheppard in the Atlantis infirmary with a growing sense of dread. He watches Keller prattle to and fro, checking readings and straightening Sheppard’s sheets. It’s all so fucking strange. The man in the bed is his friend, yet not.
Where’s the crazy hair, huh? Where’s the half-assed grin?
When they arrive in the city through the Stargate, he follows the med team into the emergency room. They don’t clean Sheppard up right away. Instead they check his vitals, bag him, and start doing all sorts of medical stuff that Rodney doesn’t really understand. After Sheppard is settled into bed and hooked up to a zillion IV’s the nurses finally start cleaning his arms and face until he looks almost human. They check some gauges and re-take his temperature.
It’s then that Rodney sees Keller frown.
One hundred and two degrees?
It doesn’t make sense. How could Sheppard’s body be so hot when just minutes ago he felt like an ice cube?
Rodney bangs his head three times in succession against the Plexiglas window of the observation room and taps his fingers nervously. Sheppard seems so much smaller than Rodney remembers him being. And why the fuck is that, huh? How the hell can a person change so much in only five days?
Still, he is clean and shiny, the mud almost completely removed from his person, and although a nice hot shower would probably do him a world of good, Sheppard looks a heck of a lot better than he did three hours ago. His usually tanned skin is pale, almost translucent beneath the white hospital sheets and there’s a large bruise on his mouth barely visible under the oxygen mask. Rodney frowns. Sheppard’s wrists are a mass of bruises, black and blue discoloration's, and torn flesh; grim reminders of his struggle to survive when the Dunedin torture him. And the scorch-marks on his arms…god, Rodney doesn’t even want to think about how he got those.
“How is Colonel Sheppard?”
Rodney takes note of Woolsey but doesn’t turn around. “He’s alive.” He sighs, “Keller says there’s something wrong with him, some kind of infection, a respiratory illness caused by the mud. She says there was mold in the mud’s composition but a type of mold she’s never seen before.” He clenches his fists, “And Sheppard was covered in the mud. They tried to drown him in it. What kind of a monster does something like that?”
He turns then, gapes at Woolsey, waits for him to respond, and wills him to say something, anything that might make things better for him and for Sheppard. He feels like crying, bawling, slamming his fist into somebody’s face, hurting someone in retribution for Sheppard’s pain. It’s unreal this emotion, this hatred eating him up. Rodney made this mistake. He deserves this guilt. He left Sheppard behind with those crazy Dunedin bastards and the very last words he said to his friend before walking through the Gate predicted his upcoming nightmare.
Bad stuff can happen to you in five days…
It freaks Rodney out that Sheppard remembers what he said. And it screws with his mind that Sheppard probably thinks about those words every god damn hellish day. He bites the inside of his mouth until it hurts, until he tastes blood and feels it rolling down the back of his throat. Fuck, why the hell does he always have to be right? Why couldn’t he have just kept his stupid mouth shut for once? And why oh why didn’t he insist on staying behind?
“You had a good idea with the Daedalus. Dr. Keller tells me that if you didn’t get to Sheppard when you did he wouldn’t be alive right now.” Woolsey pats his shoulder, “You’ve given him a chance.”
Rodney closes his eyes so Woolsey can’t see his distress. He’s not sure what to say, not sure what Woolsey expects him to say. When Rodney opens his mouth his voice sounds hoarse, “We’ll see.”
****
Sheppard wakes up in the infirmary and sees Rodney hovering anxiously near his bed. He moves back and forth, up and down, randomly glancing at his laptop and then at John’s blood pressure and heart monitor machines and back at his laptop again. The burst of energy is so much Rodney that John smiles a bit and waits for his friend to notice he’s awake.
It doesn’t take long.
“Sheppard?”
“Hey Rodney,” He feels like shit pure and simple. Washed out, exhausted, stuffed-up and completely out of his element. “When…” He starts to speak and then sneezes and coughs in succession. His eyes run, his throat hurts. He reaches for a tissue and spits. John can’t remember ever feeling so miserable.
“Keller! He’s awake!” McKay shouts loud enough to wake the dead. “Just stay awake if you can, all right?” He darts away, then comes back, “But not if you’re tired. You need to rest too.”
Wait a minute…Keller? “What happened?” He licks his lips and for the first time in days doesn’t taste mud. It’s such a relief his heart skips a beat. “I was on Dunedin...”
God...
“You’re back in the city, in Atlantis.” Rodney waves his hands like madman and flops on the side of the bed. “How do you feel?”
He keeps his voice light but John hears the edge there and the worry.
“I’m good...” John manages although he’s anything but. His head feels like lead, breathings a real bitch and his stomach is doing flip-flops rough enough to challenge the steepest twist in an F-302 breaking orbit. He thinks for a minute, says, “Am I good?” and Rodney’s face disintegrates so quickly that John wishes to god he never asked the question.
“Why don’t you let me answer that McKay,” Keller smiles softly, “I need to talk to the Colonel for a bit so...”
“What? Yes but...” Rodney fumbles for right words. He looks at John and makes a decision. “I’ll stay with him if that’s okay. Ronon and Teyla were here for most the night and morning. It’s my turn now...I don’t need to leave...”
“It’s okay...he can stay if he wants,” John’s stomach spasms. “Oh, fuck...” He rides out the nausea and closes his eyes. He breathes in and out, hears his lungs rattle and looks at Keller. Whatever the hell she wants to tell him it can’t be good. He feels worse than he ever has in his whole entire life. He coughs again and squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them up Rodney is holding tight to his arm and his face is grim.
“I guess I’m kind of sick, huh?” John manages with a weak laugh which then manages to deteriorate into another bout of coughing.
“Yes you are.” Keller starts, “It’s the mud Colonel, on Dunedin. It’s heavy with a type of mold that isn’t found anywhere that we know of. It’s mentioned in the Ancient database as being dangerous to inhale and swallow. It can be deadly if the exposure is severe. The Dunedins have a prescribed treatment but their medical laboratory was destroyed in the battle. We can’t find any information on it.”
“Oh,” John bites the inside of his mouth. The Dunedins are dead, both guilty and innocent, because his fucking gene ran amok and ignited the device which in turn killed the Prime Minister. He remembers their dying screams when the battle begins, the deafening explosions booming all around him yet somehow never hitting his small muddy cell and the blood on Denik’s face when he races to see John the next morning.
“Are you okay Colonel?”
Don’t react, don’t react, don’t react...
“Other than possibly dying from mud exposure, yeah, I suppose so.” Keller winces and John feels all sorts of guilt. “I’m fine.”
“The Dunedin used the mud as a punishment tool. It weakens the prisoner’s immune systems, coats their lungs, infects them and makes them talk so they’ll admit to anything eventually.” Rodney adds, “And you swallowed a hell of a lot of it.”
“I didn’t have a choice Rodney,” John gasps, suddenly more than a little afraid. “But I didn’t admit to anything.”
“No, of course you didn’t. If you did they might have stopped the punishment sooner.”
“I wasn’t going to say I killed their leader on purpose...I...” John coughs once, then suddenly can’t stop. His chest burns and his eyes tear up. When he finally catches his breath he stares hard at Keller, “What’s the bottom line here Doc.”
Keller swallows. God, Sheppard thinks your bedside manner definitely needs work. He asks, “McKay?” but suddenly Keller gets her nerve back.
“We don’t know exactly. I need to keep you hydrated and ventilated. Your lungs have been damaged but it’s not irreparable yet. If I put you in stasis...”
“No!” he shouts it louder than he intended. “I’m not going back in that thing. Been there, done that, for nearly eight hundred years.”
“Oh for god’s sake...” McKay’s voice rises to near panic levels. He gathers the blanket on John’s bed in his hands and implores, “Just let her help you.”
“I’m not going to do it. Figure something else out because I’m not ending up like a human Popsicle again.”
“If we don’t put you in stasis you may die.” Keller frowns, “There is a treatment mentioned in the Ancient database...”
“Fine, why not use it?” John shudders and coughs again. He clenches the bed rails until his knuckles turn white. When Keller doesn’t immediately respond John knows there must be one hell of a catch. “All right, you don’t want to use the Ancient remedy for what ails me. Why?”
“Because it might kill you,” McKay chimes in before Keller can respond. “The treatment was never perfected. It might keep you breathing longer but without the component utilized by the Dunedin it’s not a full time cure.”
Great, terrific, what the hell else can go wrong now? Forget it, he thinks, I really don’t want to know. John gestures to the machines hooked up to his body. “What about this crap? Isn’t it doing anything?”
“Yes of course but it can only do so much. Right now your lungs are deteriorating. It’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen. The mold is covering them, coating them in a filmy substance. The bottom line Colonel is that it’s going to get harder and harder for you to breathe until you can’t breathe anymore.”
And oh, yeah, really, that’s just absolutely terrifying.
Keller continues, “On top of that you have a respiratory infection which I’m treating with antibiotics. It’s what’s causing your nausea and sniffles. The antibiotics are having no affect on the mud. I’m really sorry…”
“Okay, fine, look, let me make the decision for you. Dr. Keller, start the treatment. If it works, fine, if not, well, I won’t hold you responsible.”
“That’s not your decision to make Colonel. I’m not prepared to treat you with something that may kill you unless it has at least a small chance of success,” Keller says bravely, “I’ll look over the data and prepare what I can, but the formula we have now is very straightforward. The only thing missing is the additional element from the Dunedin.” She looks at Rodney. “I’m going to start working on it now. You can stay with him for an hour but no more. The Colonel needs to rest.”
Sheppard’s eyes suddenly feel heavy. One moment he’s safe and sound and the next he’s being given a death sentence. He watches Rodney sit down and open his computer. “I am kind of tired McKay. You don’t have to stay…”
Rodney looks surprised and maybe more than a little bit hurt.
He says, “No, I’m here now. You can sleep. Zelenka will only drive me crazy if I try to break down these numbers in the lab.”
John nods and starts to doze off. He’s nearly there when Rodney speaks up.
“Listen, John…” Rodney starts slowly, “About the stasis idea. I agree with you up to a point.”
Okay…
“You do?” Because honestly, John’s not sure he made the right call. Sure, the stasis pod freaks him out a bit, but not nearly as much as dying slowly hooked up to a ventilator not being able to breathe because his lungs are covered with disgusting mold does. “How so?”
“I understand your reasons for not wanting to go in it after what happened in the future, and also with Beckett. Huh…it’s pretty strange to think about you being in that thing for eight hundred years.”
“Seemed like only minutes to me,” John jokes lightly.
“I wondered about that.” Rodney smirks, “And also about how you didn’t seem to have aged a day when you got out. Unless Todd really did make you younger when he gave you back your life in which case maybe if you aged five years during the eight hundred in stasis you would still look the way you do now.”
John smiles at that. Good old Rodney. He shrugs, “Maybe.”
Rodney closes the laptop and looks at him, really looks at him until John can feel the deep blue of his eyes freeze all surrounding time and space. “We should have got there sooner. I don’t want you to die John.”
Oh, crap. John really isn’t ready to deal with this emotional shit right now. The thought of not being able to breathe is still quite new to him. He flexes his bandaged wrist. The broken bones are the least of his problems. “Come on, we’re not there yet.”
But Rodney doesn’t seem to hear him. He continues, “And the way Keller says it’s going to happen…”
John swallows, “Geez McKay…”
The fucking mud! There’s just no way for him to escape it. John blinks. Suddenly everything seems clear. His last night on the planet, Denik told him he’d never forget the Dunedin. The bastard knew this would happen to John all along. He looks at Rodney and thinks about sharing this revelation but in the end decides against it. They’re both going through a lot without John adding to the pain. And besides, what the hell good would it do now anyway?
He looks out across the infirmary, tries to relax and says softly, “Hey, I’m not looking forward to that part either Rodney. But I’m not going to just lay here and let this thing beat me. I’m going to fight it every step of the way. And I’m going to win.” Despite the strong words, John hates how quiet his voice sounds, how consoling, almost like he’s already dead. “Anyway I trust Keller. And you do too. She’ll figure something out.”
“Then why do I keep wishing Carson was here?”
John exhales and breathes in deeply. His lungs spasm and he chokes on a cough. He swallows once, twice and the cough goes away, but oh god, it hurts like hell. John’s chest aches and it scares him to death and god almighty he just can’t get his mind around the notion that every breath he takes may potentially be his last. Keller says his lungs are deteriorating, deteriorating...and that’s oh, wow, that’s very, very bad. He reaches toward the table but Rodney gets there first.
“Here, drink this,” He shoves a glass of water and a straw in John’s face, “...and don’t do that again.”
“What, breathe?” John grins but then regrets his choice of words when Rodney frowns.
“I nearly lost you and Ronon in Michael’s compound. And we nearly lost Teyla too. And Elizabeth…I don’t even want to think about her right now.” Rodney’s mouth twists, “If the stasis can save you I think you should go for it.”
John sighs. “Let’s give Keller a chance, okay?”
Rodney sighs, “When I found you in that mud I thought you were already dead. I thought that the Dunedin killed you and I was horrified that I’d arrived too late. But then I saw that you were breathing and I was even more afraid. Because then I knew I had to keep you alive.”
Rodney walks to the end of the bed and back again. It’s enough to make John dizzy. “But you played games with me. You were living one minute and dead the next.” He pauses and looks at John resolutely. “I had to bring you back.”
Um, wow, now this is news.
“How so?” John asks, curious although he kind of suspects the answer.
“What does it matter? All right, CPR, mouth-to-mouth. Are you happy? Hey, it worked didn’t it?”
“Yes it did.” John replies, numb, detached. “Thank you.” Because really, what else is there to say? He’s alive today because of Rodney. And John knows that if the situation was reversed he would do the same exact thing for him or Ronon or Teyla, any of his people, without a moment’s hesitation.
Rodney nods. “And your breath stunk! I want you to know that Sheppard!” He finally collapses in the chair near John’s bed. “Just think about the stasis idea okay?”
John yawns and turns his head into the pillow. “I’ll talk to Keller tomorrow.”
****
In the morning John discusses his options and is pleasantly surprised to find out that Keller is already well on the way to updating the Ancient treatment. It’s not a cure by any means, but hey, any port in a storm.
Early the next day she returns to his room smiling. He holds out his arm for the shot but Keller only responds. “That’s not necessary Colonel. I’ll add it to your IV line.”
At first John is optimistic.
He starts to improve a little bit and gets some color back in his cheeks. His breathing, while still raspy and brutal, eases up a bit and John converses at longer intervals, and even takes small walks around the city in the company of his friends. He meditates with Teyla, cuddles Torren when no one’s looking, has lunch with Ronon in his room and even manages a game of chess with Rodney. John still coughs like a monster and gasps for breath but the episodes don’t last nearly as long, and he recovers faster. He’s not getting much better but hey, at least he’s not getting any worse.
But soon after the second day of treatment John develops a migraine so volatile that not being able to breathe becomes almost secondary. The nurses shut off most of the infirmary lights but it doesn’t make much of a difference and the pain relievers he takes are just like eating candy. Morphine is out of the question because of the breathing issue and frankly, he can’t stand the idea of both being drugged up and not being able to breathe clearly at the same time.
When John moves, the throb in his head is so intense he has no choice but to lie still in bed and stare at the ceiling. He feels achy and lethargic and completely cut off from reality. After finally getting back on his feet this latest setback sucks in the worst possible way and it’s impossible for John to muster up any enthusiasm for more of Keller’s medical advances.
Come on John, stay positive now…
He tries to sleep but every time John starts to drift he wakes up startled and terrified, gasping for air. He claws at the sheets and tries to catch his breath. He gasps and pants like an exhausted animal. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, lowers his face to his knees and slowly counts down from ten while his breathing returns and his head implodes.
“Christ John, what the hell are you doing?”
“McKay?” John hates how weak his voice sounds and how completely drained he feels. He tries to stand but doesn’t have much success and ends up kneeling on all fours on the floor of the infirmary shuddering violently through another spasm while Rodney tries desperately to get him to his feet.
“No…” he murmurs, “...please just leave me here…” but Rodney drags him up anyway until he’s curled up on the bed shaking. John moans, “Fuck...” and closes his eyes.
“Just relax okay John? You’re not alone.”
Rodney’s hand is a steadying presence on his shoulder but it’s nowhere near enough to keep him sane. He says, “God, oh my god, Rodney…” and the grip on his shoulder deepens. John clutches his chest and buries his face in the pillow while his world slowly melts away.
When he wakes up Rodney is still in the room and the lights are still dim. When he sees John looking in his direction he smiles tiredly and says, “You look a bit better.”
“What happened?”
At that moment Keller enters and delivers the bad news in a detached medical manner. It’s no big surprise really, John already knows what she’s going to say before the words are out of her mouth.
“It’s not working.”
“I’m sorry John. The bacteria are spreading.”
And isn’t that just a great big kick in the ass.
“I kind of figured you were going to say that.” John shivers and reaches for the bed pan. God, he doesn’t want to vomit with Keller in the room. It doesn’t make sense, John knows she’s a doctor, but the gentleman in him balks.
Oh the craziness of it all.
“The nausea is getting worse. And the x-rays don’t show any improvement.” Keller sighs, “We need to stop the treatments.”
John agrees, but hell, at that point he’d agree to anything just to make the pain in his head disappear. He smiles weakly at Keller and says, “Thanks for trying.”
Keller nods, “I wish I understood it better. Today’s blood work shows new bacteria in your system that wasn’t there the past two days. It’s attaching itself to the mold. I don’t have a clue what it’s up to yet but it appears to be feeding it. Nothing I’m doing can resolve the problem.”
John closes his eyes and waits. It’s not like he didn’t see this coming but Keller’s next words still grab him by the throat in a soft, painless choke-hold.
“I don’t know if I’m being clear enough Colonel. This is really bad and it’s only going to get worse from here. I know you’re against it, but we may have to start thinking about stasis.”
Bad stuff can happen to you in five days…
John nods slowly and turns away. Boy when Rodney’s right, he’s right.
****
“What? Why?”
Of all the crazy wacked-out shit the Ancients devise in their questionable reign as kings of the galaxy this has got to take the cake. “So what you’re saying is the ancient treatment isn’t effective at all and that if we decide to put Sheppard in a stasis pod now, after utilizing the ancient treatment, he’ll come out of it dead?”
“Not exactly,” Keller winces and Rodney tones his voice down a notch.
“Okay then, what?”
“Give the doctor a chance will ya McKay?” Sheppard gasps out, looking whiter than Rodney’s ever seen him look before.
“The stasis chamber will not halt the spread of the mold in your lungs. It’s not affected by the stasis properties in that manner. Further research tells us that the ancients don’t recommend using it for someone infected the way you are because in some cases after the treatment has been used on a patient the stasis pod has been found to actually hasten the spread of the bacteria to a quadrupled effect.”
Great, Rodney thinks, just fucking great.
I knew we should have used the damn thing sooner.
He watches John’s face carefully, noting the fine lines around his mouth etched in concentration, the worried curve to his brow, and the deep circles like inkwells underneath his eyes. He looks terrible, worse than terrible actually, because in Rodney’s eyes, John Sheppard looks like a dying man. He sneaks a grape from his friend’s lunch tray and let’s Keller continue with the bad news.
“I’m still not giving up Colonel. We have people on Dunedin searching out any information they can find in the incinerated buildings.” She squeezes John’s shoulder. “We’re gonna find a way to solve this. I just need more time.”
“That’s kind of the thing Doc. Time is something I’m short of at the moment...” He pauses, waits, and then suddenly sits forward. “Um...”
Sheppard coughs and gasps and stares at Rodney with big horrified eyes. He grabs the handles of his bed frame and jerks upward, panting and wavering back and forth. His body is rigid and harsh, with veins exposed and bruises raw. He keeps trying to swallow, or grab a quick breath, anything and everything just to stay alive. Rodney stares, mesmerized, unable to move or speak. He’s frightened and helpless and it’s the absolute worst feeling in the world. He can’t do a damn thing to help his friend. He can’t stop the fucking Dunedins from winning.
“He’s seizing!” Keller shouts and turns to Rodney, “You have to leave now.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
Keller’s expression is grim and fuck, he really, really hates doctors sometimes. “I don’t know Rodney.”
“What?”
“I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
A nurse gestures Rodney out of the room and he flops in the first chair he sees in the hospital waiting room.
“I really thought the treatment would work...” he says to no one in particular. “I really thought he was going to be okay.”
Bad things can happen to you in five days...
“Rodney…”
He turns at the sound of Teyla’s voice and somehow winds up in her arms shaking. She pats his back soothingly but he just can’t stop. Sheppard is dying and there’s not a god damn thing in the world any of them can do to stop it.
“It’s just not fair. To survive what he did only to die here in Atlantis? What’s the use of all this technology anyway if we can’t stop someone from suffocating on mud?” He pulls away and leans against the wall for support and shouts, “We should never have left him behind! We should have stayed with him!”
Teyla twists his face in her hands, “Listen to me Rodney. This is not our fault. I worry for John too but I will not grieve for him while he is still alive. I have not lost hope and neither should you.”
“It’s just not fair,” Rodney says, and god, it’s not, it’s really, really not. He says, “You’re right,” hugs her again and mumbles, “Sorry for the yelling and stuff…”
“It is okay Rodney,” Teyla smiles warmly. “We need to be here for each other as well as for John.”
“That’s right,” Ronon adds from the hallway. “We’re a team.” He walks toward Rodney and pats his arm.
“Yes, and we’re a family,” Teyla smiles.
“Sheppard’s strong. He’ll pull through,” Ronon adds and flops on the sofa. “He’s a fighter.”
Rodney sits on the sofa’s other end and Teyla sits in the middle. “Yeah, he is that.”
Sheppard is one tough son of a bitch but because he’s not a fool, he’s also terrified and desperate and wondering if he’s going to live to see another day. As much as Rodney hates the idea of Sheppard being vulnerable, hates it so much it fries his brain to mush every time he thinks it through, there’s no way he can put it out of his mind. Every time he closes his eyes he sees Sheppard in the mud staked out like a corpse, shivering and telling Rodney, “I knew you’d come for me.” He swallows hard past the lump in his throat.
Please don’t let that be the way I remember my friend...
“You all right McKay?” Ronon asks.
“Yeah,” Rodney replies trying to keep his voice steady, “I’m...fine.”
They sit together for over two hours until Teyla leaves to feed her son. When Keller returns to advise them on John’s condition Rodney stands up so fast he nearly knocks her over.
No matter what she says, no matter how grim the diagnosis, Rodney’s prepared to stand by Sheppard until the end and make the most of the time they have left together as teammates and friends. He stares at Keller in denial and tries to read her face.
In the end it’s Ronon who speaks first, “How is Sheppard?”
“Yes...how...?” Rodney says. He can’t remember ever feeling so afraid before.
“I’m not sure how to say this...”
“Oh my god...” Rodney cries at the same time Ronon moves forward.
“No, wait a second!” Keller holds up her hand. “Sheppard’s alive. The seizure was pretty severe but he made it through okay.” Her smile lights up the room. “In fact he’s better than fine.” Keller shakes her head nervously, “I can’t really explain it at all. But Colonel Sheppard’s lungs are actually clearing. It’s gonna be a long haul for him and he’s not out of the woods yet but I think he’s going to be okay.”
*****
John sneaks out of the infirmary after the nurse finishes rounds and manages to reach his room without being seen by any intrusive eyes. He stares at his bed and his Johnny Cash poster and allows himself a sigh of relief. Five days of muddy hell, followed by another five days of pain, fear and uncertainty and today he finds out from Keller that he’s actually getting better, not worse.
At first John’s skeptical, because really, yesterday dying, seizing and being put in stasis, and today, still sick but improving, with new antibodies breaking down the mold. Come on! He starts to argue and fight with Keller but since he’s tired beyond belief and his team is standing around his bed and they all look very happy, the only thing he can think of to say is “that’s good news…” before falling fast asleep.
When he wakes up Keller is in the room watching him, and when she smiles at him like he’s her own personal medical miracle John has no choice but to smile back in return. She explains to him about a foreign substance in his system, something she can’t identify, but anyway it’s destroying the film on his lungs so it’s probably a very good thing. When she asks him if he remembers being treated for the ailment on Dunedin John says no and then he nearly swallows his tongue, bites his bottom lip and reconsiders.
Gilpin, the sneaky bastard…
He remembers the Dunedin scientist’s strange actions and concern for John’s well-being on his final day of capture. He can still feel the sting of Gilpin shoving the needle into his arm with the same ferocity as the two harsh slaps across his face the scientist gives him when Denik enters late to watch the proceedings.
The scientist’s words when John asks him about the drug sing in his head, Please do not worry. It may already be too late…”
It’s utterly fantastic. Keller was looking for a needle in a haystack when she didn’t have to do a god damned thing except wait out his illness. The cure was inside him all along compliments of one very guilty and sorrowful man who made the choice to allow John to survive once his horror on Dunedin was over.
He wonders if Gilpin is alive or if he perished during the bombing.
“I’m so sorry…” John murmurs to the empty room, “I’m so god damn sorry…”
And John is sorry. With every fiber of his being he wishes he never stepped foot on P97-310.
Oh, god.
He cringes and wraps his arms around his middle, bending forward, sobbing without tears, without words. It’s nearly unbearable, so many deaths and so much suffering all because of him. John knows on the surface that he isn’t responsible for the battle with the East City, the Prime Minister dying or the Dunedin torturing him but deep inside it’s a completely different story. Inside he knows that if he didn’t touch the gadget, if he didn’t possess the Ancient gene, then many people would still be alive today. Denik was a monster. But Gilpin didn’t deserve to die. And neither did thousands of other Dunedin citizens.
He stands up, and then slumps back down, helpless for a moment to do anything but shudder in place and berate himself over and over for the world getting out of control and John being caught in the middle.
Again.
He arrives in Pegasus and wakes up the Wraith. He visits the Dunedin and the people suffer. John sighs and coughs and struggles for breath. One day at a time, one tragedy after another. It sure is one hell of a way to live.
John pulls out his sneakers from under the bed and slides into them cautiously. He stops for a moment when his head starts to spin and he breathes slowly, careful not to push it. John holds his arm across his chest when the spasms start but he rides them out as best he can without curling up on the bed and gasping for air.
The last thing John wants now is to tag the infirmary and admit he’s no longer in residence. It’s probably a dumb move, but he has to get out of there for a while, has to escape, even though John’s not sure where the hell he wants to go. Still, it doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things. Anywhere is better than the infirmary for John. It’s stuffy in there. And right now it reminds him of death.
John needs to go someplace quiet, someplace safe, just sit in the fresh air and figure all this shit out for himself before it makes him crazy. He wants to be happy, god, he really needs to feel joyful and relieved and thankful for the chance he’s been given to live and breathe and enjoy the ups and downs of his life on Atlantis. He isn’t going to die a horrible death anymore. At least not due to the Dunedin. This time he’s going to live.
John remembers speaking with Rodney, seeing the fear in his eyes, the open honest emotion at the thought of John dying and it fills him with regret and a bizarre sense of responsibility he’s never felt before. John needs to stay alive, to take care of himself for them, for his friends, for his family. He thinks of David on Earth, and their tentative reunion and feels himself tear up. If John dies, who delivers the news to David? Who tells him that his brother isn’t ever coming home?
“Good one John, great way to cheer up,” he mutters. With a last longing look at his bed John grabs the blanket he snatched from the infirmary and moves shakily into the hallway.
He heads to the nearest transporter and by the time the doors open on the East Pier he’s exhausted and sleepy but still somehow edgy as hell. Despite the hardships, one glance at the deep blue sky and the brilliant stars, one waft of ocean spray upon his cheeks and the lights of the city dazzling in the background and John knows without a doubt that his journey, his entire journey was well worth the price.
He slides down the wall, pulls the blanket tight over his shoulders and closes his eyes.
****
Rodney finds Sheppard huddled on the East Pier with his back against the wall, shivering in the moist air with a hospital blanket bundled across his too thin shoulders and dirty sneakers minus socks upon his feet. His arms are folded tight across his chest and his face is pale and exhausted. There’s a damp sheen on his skin, a souvenir of both fever and rain, and he’s staring out across the wide expanse of moonlit water as if searching for something, anything to help him understand the unbearable hell and agony of the past ten days.
Rodney's throat tightens when Sheppard lifts his arm palm side up and uses his cupped hand to catch a few droplets of water from the late evening shower and smooth it gently over his face. It’s a private moment between Sheppard and the city and Rodney feels guilty for stalking him at such a vulnerable time.
He approaches cautiously and stops dead in his tracks when Sheppard clenches the rain water in his fist and lays his forehead across his bony knees. He pulls the blanket tighter over his shoulders and his body starts to shake helplessly, minute tremors that vibrate across the entire pier. They continue for nearly a minute before subsiding into stillness and whether the shudders are from laughter or tears Rodney doesn’t ever want to know.
Oh this is so not right…
It’s painful to see his friend so defenseless and lost because the John Sheppard he knows is strong and brave and true and all the other Air Force US Military crap that Rodney believes is accurate simply because he believes in Sheppard. He frowns. No, that’s not correct. Sheppard is still strong and brave, but he’s also wounded too. Rodney shivers. It’s just, god, all that mud, and Sheppard, and Dunedin and just fuck...how the hell does anyone survive that? He turns his face away for a moment, breathes deeply and moves closer to his friend.
Oh what a twisted world view he’s discovered since exchanging galaxies. The military here will always be the “good guys” to him and not the untrustworthy scoundrels trying to circumnavigate his work like they were at the SGC. It’s funny how battling space villains that suck the life out of your body can change a person’s perspective. His mouth twists into a frown. Oh sure, he still thinks Caldwell is a bit of a tool and Colonel Ellis a blithering idiot. But John Sheppard is a good man. A man Rodney is proud to call his friend.
He gives Sheppard a minute, clears his throat twice and waits. Subtlety just isn’t his strong suit.
“Hey Rodney…” Sheppard says without lifting his head. “How’d you find me?”
“It wasn’t easy. The city didn’t want to give you up without a fight.”
When Sheppard looks at him his smile is gentle and tired and it stabs straight to the depth of Rodney’s soul. From this distance it’s easy to make out the crude marks on the Colonel’s neck where the Dunedin’s ran blunt knives against his slender throat and the burn marks on his arms, black heated patches of skin singed raw by the application of some perverse electrical current. The good news is Keller says they won’t scar.
On the surface.
Rodney composes himself, and waits one beat, then two, until finally Sheppard speaks.
“I don’t want to go back inside. I can’t breathe in there…” Sheppard’s voice trails off and for a moment Rodney thinks he might have fallen asleep but then he hears a weak sigh and suddenly Sheppard is scuffling to his feet.
“Hey,” He helps Sheppard up and doesn’t let go until he’s comfortable. Rodney wants to gather his friend up in his arms and squeeze some life back into him, scream at him for being such a big damn sacrificing hero but all he can do is play supportive buddy and worry until he can’t see straight.
“Keller’s going to beat you with a stick if she catches you. And worse, she’s going to put your catheter back in.”
That remark earns a smirk from Sheppard and Rodney allows himself to relax just a bit. They’re friends after all and friends stand by each other, even when one of them is acting off the mark. “I shouldn’t let you stay out here but I won’t force you to come inside…” Sheppard quirks an eyebrow at him and Rodney continues, “And no, I won’t get Ronon to drag your butt back to the infirmary.
“Ronon left just before you got here.” Sheppard sighs and looks out over the water, “It’s beautiful, so clean...”
“Yes and its cold John. It’s very cold out here. You should be bundled under blankets...”
“That stuff’s not helping me Rodney.” Sheppard says slowly. “But being out here is.”
And that’s...something.
For some reason Rodney doesn’t fully understand he flops on the ground and pats the space next to him. Sheppard stares at him warily.
“What are you doing?”
Rodney sighs. What the hell is he doing? Sheppard is on the mend yes, but he’s still very sick and instead of sitting on his ass getting sicker he really should be resting and eating and sleeping right now. Still, it’s a stunning night, although a drizzly one with three moons barely visible in the night sky and the spray of the ocean feels amazing on his skin. He sighs, “I’m sitting on the pier watching the waves. Now sit back down and watch with me.”
John wavers like a rag-doll in the cool breeze. He’s so thin and frail that it breaks Rodney’s heart.
He swallows hard and stiffens his jaw. John is and always will be Atlantis to Rodney. He remembers walking through the city on that first fateful day so long ago and the steps lighting up brilliantly as John ascended. It was a beautiful moment, amazing and more awe inspiring than any of his dreams for a fucking Nobel Prize. No matter what Elizabeth says later to the contrary Rodney believes without a doubt that the city recognized a long lost son coming home that day. The city recognized John Sheppard.
He looks at his friend still wavering uncertainly and pats the ground again. “Sit John, you know you want to.”
Sheppard’s face lights up in a wan smile, “Fine McKay but remember I’m a sick man. If Keller catches us she won’t take it out on me.”
“Agreed,” Rodney says. He puts a protective hand around Sheppard to steady him and fixes the blanket over his shoulders. When Sheppard doesn’t flinch, doesn’t complain that Rodney is getting too personal, and actually seems to need the contact, Rodney decides that he hates the entire universe more than ever for screwing with him again and messing up his friend this badly, “Um...”
“Are they all dead?” Sheppard’s question surprises him.
“Who, the Dunedin?” What a great way to start a conversation. “Most of them in the North City are dead, yeah. I’m sorry John.”
“I heard the battle McKay. The gunfire, the explosions...it didn’t last long.”
“What happened?”
Sheppard sighs miserably and leans against Rodney’s shoulder. His breathing is loud and raspy and his face is pale in the blossoming moonlight. “Denik...”
“The lead military bad guy? I think you mentioned him,” Rodney says and waits.
“He rushed into my cell. I was just sitting there, waiting, sleeping a bit. And he was so angry.” Sheppard shudders, “He said that his people were dying. He blamed me for the attack. He wanted to justify the war by forcing me to admit to killing the Prime Minister but I wouldn’t do it…I couldn’t Rodney. He was injured I could tell that…there was blood all over him…I could see people dying when he opened the door to my cell.”
“Look, just stop it okay?” Rodney worries, “They had a choice to fight or not to fight; a choice to try and find out the truth or to torture you instead. What happened to those people is not your fault Sheppard. You know that right?”
“It’s just like with the Wraith, only this time on a smaller scale.” Sheppard’s thin fingers tighten on the blanket. “I woke them up too.”
What?
“We’re back there now? John, look, I’m not following you.” And really, honestly, Rodney isn’t. How can Sheppard possibly blame himself for the death of the Dunedin people? He sighs. First the entire galaxy and now this. That’s a hell of a lot of guilt for one man to harbor.
“I touched the gadget in the cave with Teyla...” Sheppard, coughs, lowers his head to his chest, “...and the Wraith came and took Sumner.” He looks at Rodney. “We all know how that turned out.”
Okay, Rodney thinks, and mentally adds Sumner to the list of self blame nightmares Sheppard nurtures. “Again that wasn’t your fault. You had to do something.”
“Yeah...”
“You saved Teyla, Hauling, Bates...” Rodney bites his bottom lip, “You made the right choice.”
“But how many died McKay? How man innocent people died because I decided to play god and rush in without thinking, touching stuff and killing and blowing things up...”
“Stop it right now!” Rodney shouts louder than he intends but, holy smoke Batman, this is some serious stuff. “You had no way of knowing what would happen with the Wraith did you?”
Sheppard’s voice is small in his ear, “No.”
“Damn right!” Rodney shouts. Christ he feels a migraine coming on.
“McKay…”
“And you didn’t intend for the Prime Minister to die.” Rodney bristles. “You want to talk about doing the right thing? Wanna talk about guilt and doubt and making fucked-up decisions?”
“I know what you’re going to say...”
“We left you behind. We took off through the Gate for Atlantis and let the Dunedin fuck you over again and again in that god forsaken mud and play mind games with you. And because we as a team, made that oh so very wrong choice, you’re here now on this fucking pier and you’re sick and it’s my fault. And what do I say to make you feel better before we leave your sorry ass behind? I tell you that “A lot of bad things can happen to you in five days.” Wow! Great pep-talk. That’s what I tell you before I save myself and walk through the fucking Gate!”
Sheppard smiles sleepily. “I never knew you cursed so much McKay.”
“What? Well I usually don’t.” He considers, “Well, not out loud anyway.”
Sheppard leans against the wall. “What happened to me is not your fault.”
And god, the bastard, he actually says it like he means it. Rodney takes off his leather jacket and drapes it over Sheppard’s shoulders for the second time since he found him in that god forsaken cell. It’s cold dammit. Sheppard shouldn’t be so cold. “Yeah, and what happened to the Dunedin people is not yours.”
Sheppard nods weakly and the tip of his nose brushes Rodney’s cheek. He’s freezing. Rodney swallows and winces and his chest feels tight. He’s not going to cry right now. He can’t. He has to be strong for his friend. Ronon wouldn’t cry. Teyla neither. Both of them sat with John for hours on end and talked to him and played cards and nursed him through bouts of coughing so intense they shook the rafters of the city. But Rodney, silly old Rodney, he can’t sit with Sheppard for more than five minutes without starting to bawl like a schoolboy.
Sheppard yawns, “I’m so tired.” He looks at the sky and says, “I wonder which star...”
Sheppard’s voice trails off weakly and for a moment Rodney thinks, god, he’s dying, Keller was wrong, he’s dying right here, on my shoulder on the pier in Atlantis. It’s wrong, yet somehow it’s right too. Sheppard shouldn’t die in a hospital hooked up to wires and machines struggling to breathe. This is his city. Right here is where he belongs. And Rodney is his friend, his best friend dammit, and if this is the way Sheppard’s meant to go out, to exit this world, then Rodney’s not going to leave him behind again.
He looks at Sheppard, really looks at him closely, and notices for the first time that he’s grinning lightly, and that his lips aren’t tinged blue.
Sheppard isn’t going to die. He’s going to live. Rodney smiles in return and fights down a surge of happy team-filled thoughts.
He gathers Sheppard close and points to a distant light. He’s not really sure, because the odds are astronomical, but hey, right now Sheppard doesn’t need to know the exact truth, “That one,” he says, “That’s our old planet right there!”
“Wow…” Sheppard stares for a while. “I sort of miss it sometimes.” He yawns again, says, “Thanks McKay,” and falls immediately asleep.
“You’re very welcome John,” Rodney waits a couple of minutes, feels Sheppard’s soft breathing on his neck and wipes a tear from his cheek. He stares out at the black edge of the ocean and taps his com badge for Keller.
Ten days ago Rodney returned to Atlantis without Sheppard. And now, for the first time since finding his friend near death in a pool of mud they can both breathe a little easier.
A lot of bad things can happen in five days. Rodney smiles softly. And a lot of good things can happen too.
THE END
=end=
Part 2
****
Rodney cranks open the second to the last door in the final cell in a one block radius of twenty-three identical doors and falls to his knees in respite when he sees Sheppard lying before him in a damp heap of mud and twisted bones.
“Oh my god…”
Sheppard’s body is splayed out from corner to corner on a soft dirt floor secured by rope or rubber or bindings of some sort that Rodney can’t immediately identify. His head is lying on an old board partially covering a foot wide sinkhole of disgusting yellow mud. Sheppard’s hair and face are coated with the shit. Rodney shudders. It doesn’t take a genius to know what went on here.
Those fucking bastards…
Sheppard can’t move, can’t escape, and can’t see the outside world. There is only one window in the room, and it’s much too high to see through. There’s no bathroom or chair, only brick and mud and a strong stench of decay. Rodney swallows.
It’s a Dunedin version of hell.
He races to his friend’s side and tries to turn Sheppard over but he’s secured too tightly to move him much in any direction.
He shouts, “I need some help in here now!” and gropes around for the knife in his belt. “Come on John. We found you, we found you. Don’t you dare give up on me now! Give me a sign, come on, anything…”
Rodney taps his headset, repeats, “He’s here!”
Please, please, please be alive…
But if Sheppard hears him he doesn’t respond. The body before him is limp and unresponsive, bruised and pale. Rodney slices off one of the cuffs with his knife and carefully lifts Sheppard’s head out of the mud and pushes the filthy muck away from his face. He opens Sheppard’s mouth and removes a chunk of the sludge in two swipes and slides his knee under his friend’s jaw to keep him out of the wet dirt. He uses the cuff of his T-shirt to clean the mud from Sheppard’s eyes and twists it out deftly from inside his clogged ears. He leans Sheppard’s face sideways, feels for a pulse and stares.
It’s unbearable to see Sheppard this way, helpless and quiet, too damn quiet, and Rodney wants to scream and shout and blow what remains of the city to kingdom come just for daring to fuck with Sheppard’s wild chaotic hair.
When he checks for a pulse again, this time Sheppard isn’t breathing.
Oh fuck.
“I’m not going to let you die on me!” Rodney works fast. He lays John’s head back on the board and frees his other arm. He cuts loose his left leg, turns Sheppard on his back, clears more mud from his windpipe, thanks Carson Beckett for his first aid lessons, and begins CPR.
The taste of Sheppard’s mouth is an awful disgusting thing but Rodney ignores it as much as he’s able and starts rescue breathing. He inhales deeply, says a silent prayer and tries desperately to bring his friend back to life.
He babbles between compressions, “Come on Sheppard. Don’t let Caldwell down. He’s here you know, he’s on his way. Throw him another god damn curve ball. He said you’d be alive. But I doubted it. I didn’t think you’d make it. God Sheppard, please, please, please make it. Start the fuck breathing now!”
At that moment Sheppard sputters and gasps and starts coughing hard enough to spew up a lung. Rodney turns him on his side and rubs his shoulder blades gently. “That’s it…breathe. Good, oh thank god.”
Sheppard relaxes enough for Rodney to turn him onto his back. Hazel eyes struggle hard to focus past a thin veil of soot. “Rodney?” Sheppard’s voice sounds weak, barely there, and Rodney squeezes his hand tight just to prove to himself that his friend is still breathing.
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” Rodney swallows past the lump in his throat. Sheppard looks absolutely terrible but he’s alive and speaking and, well, he’s alive! “The Daedalus is in orbit…”
“Okay…” Sheppard coughs and returns a frail squeeze in Rodney’s grip, “You were right about the bad stuff happening Rodney…very bad stuff…”
Of all the things Rodney says that Sheppard simply ignores, why oh why does he choose to remember that? “Yeah, but it’s all over now.”
“Feel kind of sick…” Sheppard shudders hard and then immediately starts to vomit. Rodney quickly turns his face to the side and winces in sympathy as Sheppard heaves and heaves and heaves until he has nothing left to give. It’s pathetic and worrisome and just plain wrong.
“Christ John…” Rodney smoothes his hand across Sheppard’s cheek and wipes his mouth with a clean piece of shirt. He can’t imagine being Sheppard and suffering through this nightmare. He can’t imagine ever having the guts it takes to survive it.
“Hey, you’re freezing!” Rodney removes his jacket and places it over Sheppard’s battered shoulders. “Well of course you’re freezing. You’re lying here half naked in a pit of mud.” He sniffs the air and pulls Sheppard tighter, holding him against his chest, willing his warmth to pass through his skin and merge into Sheppard. “And you stink like a pile of manure.”
“Thanks McKay.” Sheppard says and closes his eyes, “I…knew you’d come for me…”
“Of course, of course I’d come. I’ll always come.” Rodney begins roughly and then the beam of the Daedalus envelopes them both.
****
Rodney stares at Sheppard in the Atlantis infirmary with a growing sense of dread. He watches Keller prattle to and fro, checking readings and straightening Sheppard’s sheets. It’s all so fucking strange. The man in the bed is his friend, yet not.
Where’s the crazy hair, huh? Where’s the half-assed grin?
When they arrive in the city through the Stargate, he follows the med team into the emergency room. They don’t clean Sheppard up right away. Instead they check his vitals, bag him, and start doing all sorts of medical stuff that Rodney doesn’t really understand. After Sheppard is settled into bed and hooked up to a zillion IV’s the nurses finally start cleaning his arms and face until he looks almost human. They check some gauges and re-take his temperature.
It’s then that Rodney sees Keller frown.
One hundred and two degrees?
It doesn’t make sense. How could Sheppard’s body be so hot when just minutes ago he felt like an ice cube?
Rodney bangs his head three times in succession against the Plexiglas window of the observation room and taps his fingers nervously. Sheppard seems so much smaller than Rodney remembers him being. And why the fuck is that, huh? How the hell can a person change so much in only five days?
Still, he is clean and shiny, the mud almost completely removed from his person, and although a nice hot shower would probably do him a world of good, Sheppard looks a heck of a lot better than he did three hours ago. His usually tanned skin is pale, almost translucent beneath the white hospital sheets and there’s a large bruise on his mouth barely visible under the oxygen mask. Rodney frowns. Sheppard’s wrists are a mass of bruises, black and blue discoloration's, and torn flesh; grim reminders of his struggle to survive when the Dunedin torture him. And the scorch-marks on his arms…god, Rodney doesn’t even want to think about how he got those.
“How is Colonel Sheppard?”
Rodney takes note of Woolsey but doesn’t turn around. “He’s alive.” He sighs, “Keller says there’s something wrong with him, some kind of infection, a respiratory illness caused by the mud. She says there was mold in the mud’s composition but a type of mold she’s never seen before.” He clenches his fists, “And Sheppard was covered in the mud. They tried to drown him in it. What kind of a monster does something like that?”
He turns then, gapes at Woolsey, waits for him to respond, and wills him to say something, anything that might make things better for him and for Sheppard. He feels like crying, bawling, slamming his fist into somebody’s face, hurting someone in retribution for Sheppard’s pain. It’s unreal this emotion, this hatred eating him up. Rodney made this mistake. He deserves this guilt. He left Sheppard behind with those crazy Dunedin bastards and the very last words he said to his friend before walking through the Gate predicted his upcoming nightmare.
Bad stuff can happen to you in five days…
It freaks Rodney out that Sheppard remembers what he said. And it screws with his mind that Sheppard probably thinks about those words every god damn hellish day. He bites the inside of his mouth until it hurts, until he tastes blood and feels it rolling down the back of his throat. Fuck, why the hell does he always have to be right? Why couldn’t he have just kept his stupid mouth shut for once? And why oh why didn’t he insist on staying behind?
“You had a good idea with the Daedalus. Dr. Keller tells me that if you didn’t get to Sheppard when you did he wouldn’t be alive right now.” Woolsey pats his shoulder, “You’ve given him a chance.”
Rodney closes his eyes so Woolsey can’t see his distress. He’s not sure what to say, not sure what Woolsey expects him to say. When Rodney opens his mouth his voice sounds hoarse, “We’ll see.”
****
Sheppard wakes up in the infirmary and sees Rodney hovering anxiously near his bed. He moves back and forth, up and down, randomly glancing at his laptop and then at John’s blood pressure and heart monitor machines and back at his laptop again. The burst of energy is so much Rodney that John smiles a bit and waits for his friend to notice he’s awake.
It doesn’t take long.
“Sheppard?”
“Hey Rodney,” He feels like shit pure and simple. Washed out, exhausted, stuffed-up and completely out of his element. “When…” He starts to speak and then sneezes and coughs in succession. His eyes run, his throat hurts. He reaches for a tissue and spits. John can’t remember ever feeling so miserable.
“Keller! He’s awake!” McKay shouts loud enough to wake the dead. “Just stay awake if you can, all right?” He darts away, then comes back, “But not if you’re tired. You need to rest too.”
Wait a minute…Keller? “What happened?” He licks his lips and for the first time in days doesn’t taste mud. It’s such a relief his heart skips a beat. “I was on Dunedin...”
God...
“You’re back in the city, in Atlantis.” Rodney waves his hands like madman and flops on the side of the bed. “How do you feel?”
He keeps his voice light but John hears the edge there and the worry.
“I’m good...” John manages although he’s anything but. His head feels like lead, breathings a real bitch and his stomach is doing flip-flops rough enough to challenge the steepest twist in an F-302 breaking orbit. He thinks for a minute, says, “Am I good?” and Rodney’s face disintegrates so quickly that John wishes to god he never asked the question.
“Why don’t you let me answer that McKay,” Keller smiles softly, “I need to talk to the Colonel for a bit so...”
“What? Yes but...” Rodney fumbles for right words. He looks at John and makes a decision. “I’ll stay with him if that’s okay. Ronon and Teyla were here for most the night and morning. It’s my turn now...I don’t need to leave...”
“It’s okay...he can stay if he wants,” John’s stomach spasms. “Oh, fuck...” He rides out the nausea and closes his eyes. He breathes in and out, hears his lungs rattle and looks at Keller. Whatever the hell she wants to tell him it can’t be good. He feels worse than he ever has in his whole entire life. He coughs again and squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them up Rodney is holding tight to his arm and his face is grim.
“I guess I’m kind of sick, huh?” John manages with a weak laugh which then manages to deteriorate into another bout of coughing.
“Yes you are.” Keller starts, “It’s the mud Colonel, on Dunedin. It’s heavy with a type of mold that isn’t found anywhere that we know of. It’s mentioned in the Ancient database as being dangerous to inhale and swallow. It can be deadly if the exposure is severe. The Dunedins have a prescribed treatment but their medical laboratory was destroyed in the battle. We can’t find any information on it.”
“Oh,” John bites the inside of his mouth. The Dunedins are dead, both guilty and innocent, because his fucking gene ran amok and ignited the device which in turn killed the Prime Minister. He remembers their dying screams when the battle begins, the deafening explosions booming all around him yet somehow never hitting his small muddy cell and the blood on Denik’s face when he races to see John the next morning.
“Are you okay Colonel?”
Don’t react, don’t react, don’t react...
“Other than possibly dying from mud exposure, yeah, I suppose so.” Keller winces and John feels all sorts of guilt. “I’m fine.”
“The Dunedin used the mud as a punishment tool. It weakens the prisoner’s immune systems, coats their lungs, infects them and makes them talk so they’ll admit to anything eventually.” Rodney adds, “And you swallowed a hell of a lot of it.”
“I didn’t have a choice Rodney,” John gasps, suddenly more than a little afraid. “But I didn’t admit to anything.”
“No, of course you didn’t. If you did they might have stopped the punishment sooner.”
“I wasn’t going to say I killed their leader on purpose...I...” John coughs once, then suddenly can’t stop. His chest burns and his eyes tear up. When he finally catches his breath he stares hard at Keller, “What’s the bottom line here Doc.”
Keller swallows. God, Sheppard thinks your bedside manner definitely needs work. He asks, “McKay?” but suddenly Keller gets her nerve back.
“We don’t know exactly. I need to keep you hydrated and ventilated. Your lungs have been damaged but it’s not irreparable yet. If I put you in stasis...”
“No!” he shouts it louder than he intended. “I’m not going back in that thing. Been there, done that, for nearly eight hundred years.”
“Oh for god’s sake...” McKay’s voice rises to near panic levels. He gathers the blanket on John’s bed in his hands and implores, “Just let her help you.”
“I’m not going to do it. Figure something else out because I’m not ending up like a human Popsicle again.”
“If we don’t put you in stasis you may die.” Keller frowns, “There is a treatment mentioned in the Ancient database...”
“Fine, why not use it?” John shudders and coughs again. He clenches the bed rails until his knuckles turn white. When Keller doesn’t immediately respond John knows there must be one hell of a catch. “All right, you don’t want to use the Ancient remedy for what ails me. Why?”
“Because it might kill you,” McKay chimes in before Keller can respond. “The treatment was never perfected. It might keep you breathing longer but without the component utilized by the Dunedin it’s not a full time cure.”
Great, terrific, what the hell else can go wrong now? Forget it, he thinks, I really don’t want to know. John gestures to the machines hooked up to his body. “What about this crap? Isn’t it doing anything?”
“Yes of course but it can only do so much. Right now your lungs are deteriorating. It’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen. The mold is covering them, coating them in a filmy substance. The bottom line Colonel is that it’s going to get harder and harder for you to breathe until you can’t breathe anymore.”
And oh, yeah, really, that’s just absolutely terrifying.
Keller continues, “On top of that you have a respiratory infection which I’m treating with antibiotics. It’s what’s causing your nausea and sniffles. The antibiotics are having no affect on the mud. I’m really sorry…”
“Okay, fine, look, let me make the decision for you. Dr. Keller, start the treatment. If it works, fine, if not, well, I won’t hold you responsible.”
“That’s not your decision to make Colonel. I’m not prepared to treat you with something that may kill you unless it has at least a small chance of success,” Keller says bravely, “I’ll look over the data and prepare what I can, but the formula we have now is very straightforward. The only thing missing is the additional element from the Dunedin.” She looks at Rodney. “I’m going to start working on it now. You can stay with him for an hour but no more. The Colonel needs to rest.”
Sheppard’s eyes suddenly feel heavy. One moment he’s safe and sound and the next he’s being given a death sentence. He watches Rodney sit down and open his computer. “I am kind of tired McKay. You don’t have to stay…”
Rodney looks surprised and maybe more than a little bit hurt.
He says, “No, I’m here now. You can sleep. Zelenka will only drive me crazy if I try to break down these numbers in the lab.”
John nods and starts to doze off. He’s nearly there when Rodney speaks up.
“Listen, John…” Rodney starts slowly, “About the stasis idea. I agree with you up to a point.”
Okay…
“You do?” Because honestly, John’s not sure he made the right call. Sure, the stasis pod freaks him out a bit, but not nearly as much as dying slowly hooked up to a ventilator not being able to breathe because his lungs are covered with disgusting mold does. “How so?”
“I understand your reasons for not wanting to go in it after what happened in the future, and also with Beckett. Huh…it’s pretty strange to think about you being in that thing for eight hundred years.”
“Seemed like only minutes to me,” John jokes lightly.
“I wondered about that.” Rodney smirks, “And also about how you didn’t seem to have aged a day when you got out. Unless Todd really did make you younger when he gave you back your life in which case maybe if you aged five years during the eight hundred in stasis you would still look the way you do now.”
John smiles at that. Good old Rodney. He shrugs, “Maybe.”
Rodney closes the laptop and looks at him, really looks at him until John can feel the deep blue of his eyes freeze all surrounding time and space. “We should have got there sooner. I don’t want you to die John.”
Oh, crap. John really isn’t ready to deal with this emotional shit right now. The thought of not being able to breathe is still quite new to him. He flexes his bandaged wrist. The broken bones are the least of his problems. “Come on, we’re not there yet.”
But Rodney doesn’t seem to hear him. He continues, “And the way Keller says it’s going to happen…”
John swallows, “Geez McKay…”
The fucking mud! There’s just no way for him to escape it. John blinks. Suddenly everything seems clear. His last night on the planet, Denik told him he’d never forget the Dunedin. The bastard knew this would happen to John all along. He looks at Rodney and thinks about sharing this revelation but in the end decides against it. They’re both going through a lot without John adding to the pain. And besides, what the hell good would it do now anyway?
He looks out across the infirmary, tries to relax and says softly, “Hey, I’m not looking forward to that part either Rodney. But I’m not going to just lay here and let this thing beat me. I’m going to fight it every step of the way. And I’m going to win.” Despite the strong words, John hates how quiet his voice sounds, how consoling, almost like he’s already dead. “Anyway I trust Keller. And you do too. She’ll figure something out.”
“Then why do I keep wishing Carson was here?”
John exhales and breathes in deeply. His lungs spasm and he chokes on a cough. He swallows once, twice and the cough goes away, but oh god, it hurts like hell. John’s chest aches and it scares him to death and god almighty he just can’t get his mind around the notion that every breath he takes may potentially be his last. Keller says his lungs are deteriorating, deteriorating...and that’s oh, wow, that’s very, very bad. He reaches toward the table but Rodney gets there first.
“Here, drink this,” He shoves a glass of water and a straw in John’s face, “...and don’t do that again.”
“What, breathe?” John grins but then regrets his choice of words when Rodney frowns.
“I nearly lost you and Ronon in Michael’s compound. And we nearly lost Teyla too. And Elizabeth…I don’t even want to think about her right now.” Rodney’s mouth twists, “If the stasis can save you I think you should go for it.”
John sighs. “Let’s give Keller a chance, okay?”
Rodney sighs, “When I found you in that mud I thought you were already dead. I thought that the Dunedin killed you and I was horrified that I’d arrived too late. But then I saw that you were breathing and I was even more afraid. Because then I knew I had to keep you alive.”
Rodney walks to the end of the bed and back again. It’s enough to make John dizzy. “But you played games with me. You were living one minute and dead the next.” He pauses and looks at John resolutely. “I had to bring you back.”
Um, wow, now this is news.
“How so?” John asks, curious although he kind of suspects the answer.
“What does it matter? All right, CPR, mouth-to-mouth. Are you happy? Hey, it worked didn’t it?”
“Yes it did.” John replies, numb, detached. “Thank you.” Because really, what else is there to say? He’s alive today because of Rodney. And John knows that if the situation was reversed he would do the same exact thing for him or Ronon or Teyla, any of his people, without a moment’s hesitation.
Rodney nods. “And your breath stunk! I want you to know that Sheppard!” He finally collapses in the chair near John’s bed. “Just think about the stasis idea okay?”
John yawns and turns his head into the pillow. “I’ll talk to Keller tomorrow.”
****
In the morning John discusses his options and is pleasantly surprised to find out that Keller is already well on the way to updating the Ancient treatment. It’s not a cure by any means, but hey, any port in a storm.
Early the next day she returns to his room smiling. He holds out his arm for the shot but Keller only responds. “That’s not necessary Colonel. I’ll add it to your IV line.”
At first John is optimistic.
He starts to improve a little bit and gets some color back in his cheeks. His breathing, while still raspy and brutal, eases up a bit and John converses at longer intervals, and even takes small walks around the city in the company of his friends. He meditates with Teyla, cuddles Torren when no one’s looking, has lunch with Ronon in his room and even manages a game of chess with Rodney. John still coughs like a monster and gasps for breath but the episodes don’t last nearly as long, and he recovers faster. He’s not getting much better but hey, at least he’s not getting any worse.
But soon after the second day of treatment John develops a migraine so volatile that not being able to breathe becomes almost secondary. The nurses shut off most of the infirmary lights but it doesn’t make much of a difference and the pain relievers he takes are just like eating candy. Morphine is out of the question because of the breathing issue and frankly, he can’t stand the idea of both being drugged up and not being able to breathe clearly at the same time.
When John moves, the throb in his head is so intense he has no choice but to lie still in bed and stare at the ceiling. He feels achy and lethargic and completely cut off from reality. After finally getting back on his feet this latest setback sucks in the worst possible way and it’s impossible for John to muster up any enthusiasm for more of Keller’s medical advances.
Come on John, stay positive now…
He tries to sleep but every time John starts to drift he wakes up startled and terrified, gasping for air. He claws at the sheets and tries to catch his breath. He gasps and pants like an exhausted animal. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, lowers his face to his knees and slowly counts down from ten while his breathing returns and his head implodes.
“Christ John, what the hell are you doing?”
“McKay?” John hates how weak his voice sounds and how completely drained he feels. He tries to stand but doesn’t have much success and ends up kneeling on all fours on the floor of the infirmary shuddering violently through another spasm while Rodney tries desperately to get him to his feet.
“No…” he murmurs, “...please just leave me here…” but Rodney drags him up anyway until he’s curled up on the bed shaking. John moans, “Fuck...” and closes his eyes.
“Just relax okay John? You’re not alone.”
Rodney’s hand is a steadying presence on his shoulder but it’s nowhere near enough to keep him sane. He says, “God, oh my god, Rodney…” and the grip on his shoulder deepens. John clutches his chest and buries his face in the pillow while his world slowly melts away.
When he wakes up Rodney is still in the room and the lights are still dim. When he sees John looking in his direction he smiles tiredly and says, “You look a bit better.”
“What happened?”
At that moment Keller enters and delivers the bad news in a detached medical manner. It’s no big surprise really, John already knows what she’s going to say before the words are out of her mouth.
“It’s not working.”
“I’m sorry John. The bacteria are spreading.”
And isn’t that just a great big kick in the ass.
“I kind of figured you were going to say that.” John shivers and reaches for the bed pan. God, he doesn’t want to vomit with Keller in the room. It doesn’t make sense, John knows she’s a doctor, but the gentleman in him balks.
Oh the craziness of it all.
“The nausea is getting worse. And the x-rays don’t show any improvement.” Keller sighs, “We need to stop the treatments.”
John agrees, but hell, at that point he’d agree to anything just to make the pain in his head disappear. He smiles weakly at Keller and says, “Thanks for trying.”
Keller nods, “I wish I understood it better. Today’s blood work shows new bacteria in your system that wasn’t there the past two days. It’s attaching itself to the mold. I don’t have a clue what it’s up to yet but it appears to be feeding it. Nothing I’m doing can resolve the problem.”
John closes his eyes and waits. It’s not like he didn’t see this coming but Keller’s next words still grab him by the throat in a soft, painless choke-hold.
“I don’t know if I’m being clear enough Colonel. This is really bad and it’s only going to get worse from here. I know you’re against it, but we may have to start thinking about stasis.”
Bad stuff can happen to you in five days…
John nods slowly and turns away. Boy when Rodney’s right, he’s right.
****
“What? Why?”
Of all the crazy wacked-out shit the Ancients devise in their questionable reign as kings of the galaxy this has got to take the cake. “So what you’re saying is the ancient treatment isn’t effective at all and that if we decide to put Sheppard in a stasis pod now, after utilizing the ancient treatment, he’ll come out of it dead?”
“Not exactly,” Keller winces and Rodney tones his voice down a notch.
“Okay then, what?”
“Give the doctor a chance will ya McKay?” Sheppard gasps out, looking whiter than Rodney’s ever seen him look before.
“The stasis chamber will not halt the spread of the mold in your lungs. It’s not affected by the stasis properties in that manner. Further research tells us that the ancients don’t recommend using it for someone infected the way you are because in some cases after the treatment has been used on a patient the stasis pod has been found to actually hasten the spread of the bacteria to a quadrupled effect.”
Great, Rodney thinks, just fucking great.
I knew we should have used the damn thing sooner.
He watches John’s face carefully, noting the fine lines around his mouth etched in concentration, the worried curve to his brow, and the deep circles like inkwells underneath his eyes. He looks terrible, worse than terrible actually, because in Rodney’s eyes, John Sheppard looks like a dying man. He sneaks a grape from his friend’s lunch tray and let’s Keller continue with the bad news.
“I’m still not giving up Colonel. We have people on Dunedin searching out any information they can find in the incinerated buildings.” She squeezes John’s shoulder. “We’re gonna find a way to solve this. I just need more time.”
“That’s kind of the thing Doc. Time is something I’m short of at the moment...” He pauses, waits, and then suddenly sits forward. “Um...”
Sheppard coughs and gasps and stares at Rodney with big horrified eyes. He grabs the handles of his bed frame and jerks upward, panting and wavering back and forth. His body is rigid and harsh, with veins exposed and bruises raw. He keeps trying to swallow, or grab a quick breath, anything and everything just to stay alive. Rodney stares, mesmerized, unable to move or speak. He’s frightened and helpless and it’s the absolute worst feeling in the world. He can’t do a damn thing to help his friend. He can’t stop the fucking Dunedins from winning.
“He’s seizing!” Keller shouts and turns to Rodney, “You have to leave now.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
Keller’s expression is grim and fuck, he really, really hates doctors sometimes. “I don’t know Rodney.”
“What?”
“I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
A nurse gestures Rodney out of the room and he flops in the first chair he sees in the hospital waiting room.
“I really thought the treatment would work...” he says to no one in particular. “I really thought he was going to be okay.”
Bad things can happen to you in five days...
“Rodney…”
He turns at the sound of Teyla’s voice and somehow winds up in her arms shaking. She pats his back soothingly but he just can’t stop. Sheppard is dying and there’s not a god damn thing in the world any of them can do to stop it.
“It’s just not fair. To survive what he did only to die here in Atlantis? What’s the use of all this technology anyway if we can’t stop someone from suffocating on mud?” He pulls away and leans against the wall for support and shouts, “We should never have left him behind! We should have stayed with him!”
Teyla twists his face in her hands, “Listen to me Rodney. This is not our fault. I worry for John too but I will not grieve for him while he is still alive. I have not lost hope and neither should you.”
“It’s just not fair,” Rodney says, and god, it’s not, it’s really, really not. He says, “You’re right,” hugs her again and mumbles, “Sorry for the yelling and stuff…”
“It is okay Rodney,” Teyla smiles warmly. “We need to be here for each other as well as for John.”
“That’s right,” Ronon adds from the hallway. “We’re a team.” He walks toward Rodney and pats his arm.
“Yes, and we’re a family,” Teyla smiles.
“Sheppard’s strong. He’ll pull through,” Ronon adds and flops on the sofa. “He’s a fighter.”
Rodney sits on the sofa’s other end and Teyla sits in the middle. “Yeah, he is that.”
Sheppard is one tough son of a bitch but because he’s not a fool, he’s also terrified and desperate and wondering if he’s going to live to see another day. As much as Rodney hates the idea of Sheppard being vulnerable, hates it so much it fries his brain to mush every time he thinks it through, there’s no way he can put it out of his mind. Every time he closes his eyes he sees Sheppard in the mud staked out like a corpse, shivering and telling Rodney, “I knew you’d come for me.” He swallows hard past the lump in his throat.
Please don’t let that be the way I remember my friend...
“You all right McKay?” Ronon asks.
“Yeah,” Rodney replies trying to keep his voice steady, “I’m...fine.”
They sit together for over two hours until Teyla leaves to feed her son. When Keller returns to advise them on John’s condition Rodney stands up so fast he nearly knocks her over.
No matter what she says, no matter how grim the diagnosis, Rodney’s prepared to stand by Sheppard until the end and make the most of the time they have left together as teammates and friends. He stares at Keller in denial and tries to read her face.
In the end it’s Ronon who speaks first, “How is Sheppard?”
“Yes...how...?” Rodney says. He can’t remember ever feeling so afraid before.
“I’m not sure how to say this...”
“Oh my god...” Rodney cries at the same time Ronon moves forward.
“No, wait a second!” Keller holds up her hand. “Sheppard’s alive. The seizure was pretty severe but he made it through okay.” Her smile lights up the room. “In fact he’s better than fine.” Keller shakes her head nervously, “I can’t really explain it at all. But Colonel Sheppard’s lungs are actually clearing. It’s gonna be a long haul for him and he’s not out of the woods yet but I think he’s going to be okay.”
*****
John sneaks out of the infirmary after the nurse finishes rounds and manages to reach his room without being seen by any intrusive eyes. He stares at his bed and his Johnny Cash poster and allows himself a sigh of relief. Five days of muddy hell, followed by another five days of pain, fear and uncertainty and today he finds out from Keller that he’s actually getting better, not worse.
At first John’s skeptical, because really, yesterday dying, seizing and being put in stasis, and today, still sick but improving, with new antibodies breaking down the mold. Come on! He starts to argue and fight with Keller but since he’s tired beyond belief and his team is standing around his bed and they all look very happy, the only thing he can think of to say is “that’s good news…” before falling fast asleep.
When he wakes up Keller is in the room watching him, and when she smiles at him like he’s her own personal medical miracle John has no choice but to smile back in return. She explains to him about a foreign substance in his system, something she can’t identify, but anyway it’s destroying the film on his lungs so it’s probably a very good thing. When she asks him if he remembers being treated for the ailment on Dunedin John says no and then he nearly swallows his tongue, bites his bottom lip and reconsiders.
Gilpin, the sneaky bastard…
He remembers the Dunedin scientist’s strange actions and concern for John’s well-being on his final day of capture. He can still feel the sting of Gilpin shoving the needle into his arm with the same ferocity as the two harsh slaps across his face the scientist gives him when Denik enters late to watch the proceedings.
The scientist’s words when John asks him about the drug sing in his head, Please do not worry. It may already be too late…”
It’s utterly fantastic. Keller was looking for a needle in a haystack when she didn’t have to do a god damned thing except wait out his illness. The cure was inside him all along compliments of one very guilty and sorrowful man who made the choice to allow John to survive once his horror on Dunedin was over.
He wonders if Gilpin is alive or if he perished during the bombing.
“I’m so sorry…” John murmurs to the empty room, “I’m so god damn sorry…”
And John is sorry. With every fiber of his being he wishes he never stepped foot on P97-310.
Oh, god.
He cringes and wraps his arms around his middle, bending forward, sobbing without tears, without words. It’s nearly unbearable, so many deaths and so much suffering all because of him. John knows on the surface that he isn’t responsible for the battle with the East City, the Prime Minister dying or the Dunedin torturing him but deep inside it’s a completely different story. Inside he knows that if he didn’t touch the gadget, if he didn’t possess the Ancient gene, then many people would still be alive today. Denik was a monster. But Gilpin didn’t deserve to die. And neither did thousands of other Dunedin citizens.
He stands up, and then slumps back down, helpless for a moment to do anything but shudder in place and berate himself over and over for the world getting out of control and John being caught in the middle.
Again.
He arrives in Pegasus and wakes up the Wraith. He visits the Dunedin and the people suffer. John sighs and coughs and struggles for breath. One day at a time, one tragedy after another. It sure is one hell of a way to live.
John pulls out his sneakers from under the bed and slides into them cautiously. He stops for a moment when his head starts to spin and he breathes slowly, careful not to push it. John holds his arm across his chest when the spasms start but he rides them out as best he can without curling up on the bed and gasping for air.
The last thing John wants now is to tag the infirmary and admit he’s no longer in residence. It’s probably a dumb move, but he has to get out of there for a while, has to escape, even though John’s not sure where the hell he wants to go. Still, it doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things. Anywhere is better than the infirmary for John. It’s stuffy in there. And right now it reminds him of death.
John needs to go someplace quiet, someplace safe, just sit in the fresh air and figure all this shit out for himself before it makes him crazy. He wants to be happy, god, he really needs to feel joyful and relieved and thankful for the chance he’s been given to live and breathe and enjoy the ups and downs of his life on Atlantis. He isn’t going to die a horrible death anymore. At least not due to the Dunedin. This time he’s going to live.
John remembers speaking with Rodney, seeing the fear in his eyes, the open honest emotion at the thought of John dying and it fills him with regret and a bizarre sense of responsibility he’s never felt before. John needs to stay alive, to take care of himself for them, for his friends, for his family. He thinks of David on Earth, and their tentative reunion and feels himself tear up. If John dies, who delivers the news to David? Who tells him that his brother isn’t ever coming home?
“Good one John, great way to cheer up,” he mutters. With a last longing look at his bed John grabs the blanket he snatched from the infirmary and moves shakily into the hallway.
He heads to the nearest transporter and by the time the doors open on the East Pier he’s exhausted and sleepy but still somehow edgy as hell. Despite the hardships, one glance at the deep blue sky and the brilliant stars, one waft of ocean spray upon his cheeks and the lights of the city dazzling in the background and John knows without a doubt that his journey, his entire journey was well worth the price.
He slides down the wall, pulls the blanket tight over his shoulders and closes his eyes.
****
Rodney finds Sheppard huddled on the East Pier with his back against the wall, shivering in the moist air with a hospital blanket bundled across his too thin shoulders and dirty sneakers minus socks upon his feet. His arms are folded tight across his chest and his face is pale and exhausted. There’s a damp sheen on his skin, a souvenir of both fever and rain, and he’s staring out across the wide expanse of moonlit water as if searching for something, anything to help him understand the unbearable hell and agony of the past ten days.
Rodney's throat tightens when Sheppard lifts his arm palm side up and uses his cupped hand to catch a few droplets of water from the late evening shower and smooth it gently over his face. It’s a private moment between Sheppard and the city and Rodney feels guilty for stalking him at such a vulnerable time.
He approaches cautiously and stops dead in his tracks when Sheppard clenches the rain water in his fist and lays his forehead across his bony knees. He pulls the blanket tighter over his shoulders and his body starts to shake helplessly, minute tremors that vibrate across the entire pier. They continue for nearly a minute before subsiding into stillness and whether the shudders are from laughter or tears Rodney doesn’t ever want to know.
Oh this is so not right…
It’s painful to see his friend so defenseless and lost because the John Sheppard he knows is strong and brave and true and all the other Air Force US Military crap that Rodney believes is accurate simply because he believes in Sheppard. He frowns. No, that’s not correct. Sheppard is still strong and brave, but he’s also wounded too. Rodney shivers. It’s just, god, all that mud, and Sheppard, and Dunedin and just fuck...how the hell does anyone survive that? He turns his face away for a moment, breathes deeply and moves closer to his friend.
Oh what a twisted world view he’s discovered since exchanging galaxies. The military here will always be the “good guys” to him and not the untrustworthy scoundrels trying to circumnavigate his work like they were at the SGC. It’s funny how battling space villains that suck the life out of your body can change a person’s perspective. His mouth twists into a frown. Oh sure, he still thinks Caldwell is a bit of a tool and Colonel Ellis a blithering idiot. But John Sheppard is a good man. A man Rodney is proud to call his friend.
He gives Sheppard a minute, clears his throat twice and waits. Subtlety just isn’t his strong suit.
“Hey Rodney…” Sheppard says without lifting his head. “How’d you find me?”
“It wasn’t easy. The city didn’t want to give you up without a fight.”
When Sheppard looks at him his smile is gentle and tired and it stabs straight to the depth of Rodney’s soul. From this distance it’s easy to make out the crude marks on the Colonel’s neck where the Dunedin’s ran blunt knives against his slender throat and the burn marks on his arms, black heated patches of skin singed raw by the application of some perverse electrical current. The good news is Keller says they won’t scar.
On the surface.
Rodney composes himself, and waits one beat, then two, until finally Sheppard speaks.
“I don’t want to go back inside. I can’t breathe in there…” Sheppard’s voice trails off and for a moment Rodney thinks he might have fallen asleep but then he hears a weak sigh and suddenly Sheppard is scuffling to his feet.
“Hey,” He helps Sheppard up and doesn’t let go until he’s comfortable. Rodney wants to gather his friend up in his arms and squeeze some life back into him, scream at him for being such a big damn sacrificing hero but all he can do is play supportive buddy and worry until he can’t see straight.
“Keller’s going to beat you with a stick if she catches you. And worse, she’s going to put your catheter back in.”
That remark earns a smirk from Sheppard and Rodney allows himself to relax just a bit. They’re friends after all and friends stand by each other, even when one of them is acting off the mark. “I shouldn’t let you stay out here but I won’t force you to come inside…” Sheppard quirks an eyebrow at him and Rodney continues, “And no, I won’t get Ronon to drag your butt back to the infirmary.
“Ronon left just before you got here.” Sheppard sighs and looks out over the water, “It’s beautiful, so clean...”
“Yes and its cold John. It’s very cold out here. You should be bundled under blankets...”
“That stuff’s not helping me Rodney.” Sheppard says slowly. “But being out here is.”
And that’s...something.
For some reason Rodney doesn’t fully understand he flops on the ground and pats the space next to him. Sheppard stares at him warily.
“What are you doing?”
Rodney sighs. What the hell is he doing? Sheppard is on the mend yes, but he’s still very sick and instead of sitting on his ass getting sicker he really should be resting and eating and sleeping right now. Still, it’s a stunning night, although a drizzly one with three moons barely visible in the night sky and the spray of the ocean feels amazing on his skin. He sighs, “I’m sitting on the pier watching the waves. Now sit back down and watch with me.”
John wavers like a rag-doll in the cool breeze. He’s so thin and frail that it breaks Rodney’s heart.
He swallows hard and stiffens his jaw. John is and always will be Atlantis to Rodney. He remembers walking through the city on that first fateful day so long ago and the steps lighting up brilliantly as John ascended. It was a beautiful moment, amazing and more awe inspiring than any of his dreams for a fucking Nobel Prize. No matter what Elizabeth says later to the contrary Rodney believes without a doubt that the city recognized a long lost son coming home that day. The city recognized John Sheppard.
He looks at his friend still wavering uncertainly and pats the ground again. “Sit John, you know you want to.”
Sheppard’s face lights up in a wan smile, “Fine McKay but remember I’m a sick man. If Keller catches us she won’t take it out on me.”
“Agreed,” Rodney says. He puts a protective hand around Sheppard to steady him and fixes the blanket over his shoulders. When Sheppard doesn’t flinch, doesn’t complain that Rodney is getting too personal, and actually seems to need the contact, Rodney decides that he hates the entire universe more than ever for screwing with him again and messing up his friend this badly, “Um...”
“Are they all dead?” Sheppard’s question surprises him.
“Who, the Dunedin?” What a great way to start a conversation. “Most of them in the North City are dead, yeah. I’m sorry John.”
“I heard the battle McKay. The gunfire, the explosions...it didn’t last long.”
“What happened?”
Sheppard sighs miserably and leans against Rodney’s shoulder. His breathing is loud and raspy and his face is pale in the blossoming moonlight. “Denik...”
“The lead military bad guy? I think you mentioned him,” Rodney says and waits.
“He rushed into my cell. I was just sitting there, waiting, sleeping a bit. And he was so angry.” Sheppard shudders, “He said that his people were dying. He blamed me for the attack. He wanted to justify the war by forcing me to admit to killing the Prime Minister but I wouldn’t do it…I couldn’t Rodney. He was injured I could tell that…there was blood all over him…I could see people dying when he opened the door to my cell.”
“Look, just stop it okay?” Rodney worries, “They had a choice to fight or not to fight; a choice to try and find out the truth or to torture you instead. What happened to those people is not your fault Sheppard. You know that right?”
“It’s just like with the Wraith, only this time on a smaller scale.” Sheppard’s thin fingers tighten on the blanket. “I woke them up too.”
What?
“We’re back there now? John, look, I’m not following you.” And really, honestly, Rodney isn’t. How can Sheppard possibly blame himself for the death of the Dunedin people? He sighs. First the entire galaxy and now this. That’s a hell of a lot of guilt for one man to harbor.
“I touched the gadget in the cave with Teyla...” Sheppard, coughs, lowers his head to his chest, “...and the Wraith came and took Sumner.” He looks at Rodney. “We all know how that turned out.”
Okay, Rodney thinks, and mentally adds Sumner to the list of self blame nightmares Sheppard nurtures. “Again that wasn’t your fault. You had to do something.”
“Yeah...”
“You saved Teyla, Hauling, Bates...” Rodney bites his bottom lip, “You made the right choice.”
“But how many died McKay? How man innocent people died because I decided to play god and rush in without thinking, touching stuff and killing and blowing things up...”
“Stop it right now!” Rodney shouts louder than he intends but, holy smoke Batman, this is some serious stuff. “You had no way of knowing what would happen with the Wraith did you?”
Sheppard’s voice is small in his ear, “No.”
“Damn right!” Rodney shouts. Christ he feels a migraine coming on.
“McKay…”
“And you didn’t intend for the Prime Minister to die.” Rodney bristles. “You want to talk about doing the right thing? Wanna talk about guilt and doubt and making fucked-up decisions?”
“I know what you’re going to say...”
“We left you behind. We took off through the Gate for Atlantis and let the Dunedin fuck you over again and again in that god forsaken mud and play mind games with you. And because we as a team, made that oh so very wrong choice, you’re here now on this fucking pier and you’re sick and it’s my fault. And what do I say to make you feel better before we leave your sorry ass behind? I tell you that “A lot of bad things can happen to you in five days.” Wow! Great pep-talk. That’s what I tell you before I save myself and walk through the fucking Gate!”
Sheppard smiles sleepily. “I never knew you cursed so much McKay.”
“What? Well I usually don’t.” He considers, “Well, not out loud anyway.”
Sheppard leans against the wall. “What happened to me is not your fault.”
And god, the bastard, he actually says it like he means it. Rodney takes off his leather jacket and drapes it over Sheppard’s shoulders for the second time since he found him in that god forsaken cell. It’s cold dammit. Sheppard shouldn’t be so cold. “Yeah, and what happened to the Dunedin people is not yours.”
Sheppard nods weakly and the tip of his nose brushes Rodney’s cheek. He’s freezing. Rodney swallows and winces and his chest feels tight. He’s not going to cry right now. He can’t. He has to be strong for his friend. Ronon wouldn’t cry. Teyla neither. Both of them sat with John for hours on end and talked to him and played cards and nursed him through bouts of coughing so intense they shook the rafters of the city. But Rodney, silly old Rodney, he can’t sit with Sheppard for more than five minutes without starting to bawl like a schoolboy.
Sheppard yawns, “I’m so tired.” He looks at the sky and says, “I wonder which star...”
Sheppard’s voice trails off weakly and for a moment Rodney thinks, god, he’s dying, Keller was wrong, he’s dying right here, on my shoulder on the pier in Atlantis. It’s wrong, yet somehow it’s right too. Sheppard shouldn’t die in a hospital hooked up to wires and machines struggling to breathe. This is his city. Right here is where he belongs. And Rodney is his friend, his best friend dammit, and if this is the way Sheppard’s meant to go out, to exit this world, then Rodney’s not going to leave him behind again.
He looks at Sheppard, really looks at him closely, and notices for the first time that he’s grinning lightly, and that his lips aren’t tinged blue.
Sheppard isn’t going to die. He’s going to live. Rodney smiles in return and fights down a surge of happy team-filled thoughts.
He gathers Sheppard close and points to a distant light. He’s not really sure, because the odds are astronomical, but hey, right now Sheppard doesn’t need to know the exact truth, “That one,” he says, “That’s our old planet right there!”
“Wow…” Sheppard stares for a while. “I sort of miss it sometimes.” He yawns again, says, “Thanks McKay,” and falls immediately asleep.
“You’re very welcome John,” Rodney waits a couple of minutes, feels Sheppard’s soft breathing on his neck and wipes a tear from his cheek. He stares out at the black edge of the ocean and taps his com badge for Keller.
Ten days ago Rodney returned to Atlantis without Sheppard. And now, for the first time since finding his friend near death in a pool of mud they can both breathe a little easier.
A lot of bad things can happen in five days. Rodney smiles softly. And a lot of good things can happen too.
THE END
=end=