"Another Man's Shoes" (3/4)
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He’d already had four more visions by the time the inevitable visit from Richard Woolsey came. Thankfully, none had been long lasting or as emotionally wrenching as the earlier ones, but they’d left him dazed and hazy and a steady throb had begun building in his temples.
“You understand why I had to come talk to you and Dr Beckett,” the IOA rep started without small talk.
John nodded. “Makes sense. So far I’m still me and I plan on staying that way, but yeah… Beckett’s got me a little freaked out too.”
“Would you consider these messages from other sentient beings, Colonel?”
He shrugged. “I can’t imagine what they’d be trying to say, truthfully. All the images have been pretty random, especially these latest ones. Someone giving a speech, another of what I think was a marriage ceremony.”
“I see.” The bureaucrat rubbed at his chin. “Have these visions led you to want to harm yourself, or others?”
John scowled and shook his head, then scowled deeper as the leads tugged at his hair. “I’m not a danger to anyone, including myself, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“But from what I understand, the visions have been compelling enough for you to actually experience the emotions that the people in them are feeling. Isn’t that so, Colonel?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“And if the visions can make you experience emotions that aren’t yours, do you believe that you could be manipulated into doing things you may not want to do?”
“How the hell should I know?” John spat. “I’ve only been dealing with this for a little while. I’ll let you know if the voices start telling me that all work and no play makes John a dull boy!”
“Movie quotes,” Woolsey said quietly. “Colonel, my primary concern is your safety and the safety of this base and everyone on it. What we know for now is that you are experiencing unforeseeable visions, some depicting acts of violence and bloodshed. We have no explanation why they have begun or what is causing them. Further, I would point out that were you in complete control of your faculties, you would be the first man recommending certain protocols be put in place.”
John fumed. The man was right, of course. The whole thing smacked of a time in his life he’d just as soon forget, but as before, he’d been man enough to recognize when he posed a danger to Atlantis.
“What do you intend to do?” he finally asked.
“Post a guard outside the infirmary,” Woolsey answered, clearly already having thought things through. “I want a psych consult” - there they were- “to work along with Dr Beckett. If these manifestations are psychological in nature --”
“They aren’t,” came a voice from the doorway.
Woolsey turned to address Carson. “And how can you be so sure, Dr?”
“Because no matter the nature of a mental illness, Mr. Woolsey, it doesn’t change the fundamental makeup and output of the human brain.”
“What about cases of depression or bipolar disorder, Doctor? I was of the understanding that these illnesses were the result of changes in the brain’s biochemistry. Serotonin, dopamine, all that.”
“Aye, but it doesn’t change brainwave patterns. Each is as individual as a fingerprint. And right now, Colonel Sheppard appears to have approximately eight different fingerprints.”
“But you just said--”
“That I did, Mr. Woolsey. I canna explain it but just in the short time I have had the colonel on the monitor I have recorded eight distinct brainwave patterns.”
John gaped, not really following. “What, like I’m Sybil? Sybil Sheppard?” he laughed.
“No, Colonel,” Carson replied without an answering smile. “You have the patterns of eight different…consciousnesses. In your brain. And I have no bloody clue from where or how they got there.”
“But I’m… I’m me, doc. I think I’d know if I wasn’t.” He gave Carson a meaningful look.
“Aye,” the Scot sighed. “It is remarkably similar to the findings I - - that is, the records from that time that you and Elizabeth were… well, they are similar.”
“Yes, and I knew the whole time that Thalen was… gah - what? Possessing me? I could feel myself… take a back seat while he took over driving. It doesn’t feel that way, Carson.”
“No, I wouldn’t imagine it would, Colonel. Even when Thalen was in control of your body, your consciousness, as you pointed out, was very much there. You could see your brainwave pattern, but it was altered… blurred by the overlay of Thalen’s. It’s how we were able to once and for all determine that Thalen and Phoebus were gone from the pair of ya- when your EEG readings returned to normal. This is more like a…” The doc sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Like a patchwork quilt. With your readings being interrupted by these patches of others’. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better, but I’ll admit, I’m a wee bit in the dark about all of this.”
That had Woolsey’s head nodding furiously. “My point, exactly. Recent events have made us -- me-- painfully aware of what it is like to have your mind manipulated, and to be completely unaware that it is happening. We are all in the dark. And I apologize for the bluntness but, until some light can be shed on this situation… “
“I should have a guard,” John finished for him, giving him a nod of mutual understanding. “You’re right.”
The bureaucrat straightened his shirt and dipped his chin once at John. “Thank you, Colonel.”
“I’ll need to bring Lorne up to speed-”
“Already done, Colonel,” Woolsey said awkwardly. “I believed time was of an essence.”
John took a slow, deep breath and absorbed the fact that many more would eventually need to be made aware of his current status. “I guess HIPAA doesn’t really apply, does it?” he said dryly. “Fine. Have Lorne assign a guard-”
“Don’t need a guard,” came from the curtain’s opening. Ronon stood there with Teyla and Rodney. “One of us’ll stay with him until we figure this out.”
Teyla came straight to his bedside and touched his hand briefly. “Carson told us what was happening.” At least she had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed by the admission. “How are you feeling, John?”
Not like myself was what he wanted to answer. “Fine,” he sighed instead. “I feel fine.” Then he ruined the façade as his hand rose to the bridge of his nose to knead at the ache in his head.
Carson immediately frowned. “Headache, Colonel?”
“Under the circumstances I’d think it’d be kinda expected, wouldn’t you?” John snapped. When five sets of worried eyes settled on him he fidgeted in the bed. “Sorry. Guess it’s getting kinda crowded in here.”
Carson’s eyebrows rose. “You have a good point, Colonel. Alright, everyone out. And you three, pick someone to stay but be quick about it.”
John raised a finger and tapped it on his head. “Meant in here, Doc,” he said ruefully.
The Scot smiled sadly and nodded. “I can imagine, Colonel. Actually, strike that. I don’t believe I can. But what I can do is make it less crowded in here,” he said firmly, waving his hand at the gathered group.
“I’ll stay for now, if you don’t mind,” Teyla said, placing a proprietary hand on the bed.
Ronon looked ready to argue but nodded, threw John a small wave then turned and left.
Rodney actually looked a little dejected for a moment, then shrugged and said, fine. “You know where I’ll be.”
“The cafeteria?” Carson said airily.
“Ha ha,” was shot back over the retreating physicist’s shoulder. After he left Carson smiled affectionately in his direction. “The lad’s been combing the Ancient databases since your return from the planet this afternoon.” He shot his wrist forward and frowned at his watch face. “Actually, he’d better hie himself down to the cafeteria at some point or he’ll have a neighboring bed in here.”
“Allow me to go see to Dr McKay’s nutritional needs,” Woolsey said with a tight smile. “Colonel, feel better,” he said stiffly, then turned and left, leaving John with a mercifully emptier room.
“Well, I have my own research and cold supper to return to,” Carson said. “I’ll have a nurse in the area if you need anything, Colonel - and, before you go telling me you don’t need anything,” he continued over John’s attempt to speak, “I’ll at least have her bring you some more ibuprofen for the headache. And I’ll trust that you’ll tell her if you need anything stronger.”
John settled his aching head back into his pillows and nodded shortly. “Advil sounds good, doc. Thanks.”
Teyla pulled up a chair and leaned an elbow on the bed. “How do you really feel, John?” she asked frankly.
He sighed and allowed himself another rub at his forehead, then fumed as his fingers caught on a lead.
“Freaked out,” he finally answered.
Teyla nodded knowingly and sat back in her chair, seemingly relieved by his admission which he thought was odd. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For admitting that to me. What is happening to you should ‘freak you out,’” she added, smiling. “It can be hard to explain to people what it is like, to have another’s thoughts and feelings in your head.”
Realization dawned on him and he gaped. “Yeah, I guess I never really… is that what it’s like for you? When the Wraith… when you…”
She shook her head and smiled. “It was, at first, of course. You remember what it was like when the visions first came to me. Not only was I scared and confused by what was happening, it made some people… “
“Bates,” John muttered grimly. “Yeah, I remember.”
“I do not blame him. Now,” she added with a sly grin. “At the time… well. But I understand that it must have been just as frightening for him - for all of you. We knew so little about the Wraith. But in time the ability I have became…well, a blessing of sorts. We found ways to use it to our advantage. And now that I am familiar with it…” She stopped and chuffed out a small laugh. “I asked you to be truthful with me…. …. It still ‘freaks me out’ sometimes.”
John hesitated, gripped her hand briefly, squeezed it, then quickly pulled away as the nurse entered the room with his medication. Out of the corner of his averted gaze he saw Teyla smile.
Without looking in the paper cup John tossed down the pills, dry swallowed them, then settled back, trying to make himself comfortable within his spider web of leads.
“Do you think you could sleep, John?”
His mouth started to say no, but the throb in his head and his heavy eyes made the answer come out, “Probably, yeah.”
Teyla curled up in the visitor’s chair, tucked her feet up underneath her and settled in. “Kanaan has Torren for the next several days. And after the last week of living with a spotted, sniffling, and decidedly cranky child, I welcome the time to relax. Sleep, John. I’ll be here if you need anything.”
John nodded, the leads rustling the pillow linen. “Do you, um. Do you have a weapon?”
“You have faced me almost daily in the gym,” she said with a quirked eyebrow. “Do you really feel that I need one?”
“Point and match,” John muttered as he closed his eyes and drifted….
The summer breeze teased at her hair as she knelt in the garden, surrounded by a bounty of vibrant blossoms. The soil was rich and loose and the small weeds came up freely. A small wilted pile of them already covered the grass behind her.
Early as it was in the season, it was still quite warm and beads of sweat had gathered on her forehead. She wiped them away with the back of her gloved hand, then eased back on her heels, stretching at the kink in the small of her back. There was a time that she could spend hours in her garden, trimming and fussing over it.
She rubbed at the swell of her belly and smiled. The pain in her back was a small price to pay for the miracle the Protectors had brought her. Older than most women, she and Daveth had been blessed with a child. With every visit to her doctor, every scan and test, she had been assured that the baby was healthy and progressing well.
But that hadn’t relieved her misgivings. Three prior pregnancies, none had advanced this far.
She shook herself free of the bad thoughts and rose to her feet, even if it was with a little less than her usual grace.
She headed up to the house, looking forward to a glass of cool water and some of the berries she’d picked earlier. As she reached the sliding glass doors she thought them open, sighing as she felt the cool air that waited inside.
One foot in the doorway and she felt…something. A dull ache within her womb. The ache sharpened, for a brief moment, and her heart lurched.
“Daveth“, she whispered, stock still, one hand on the door, the other gripping the swell of her belly. Under that hand she felt a ripple of muscle. Then another.
Her heart began to pound, but now it was with joy. She had never felt it before, but she knew - knew- what this was.
“Daveth!” she cried louder. “Daveth, come quickly!”
Footsteps came crashing through the house. Daveth was red faced, a stricken look on his face as he stared with horror and worry at her.
She smiled at her husband and reached out for his hand. “Daveth! Here. Feel!” She grabbed his hand and pulled it to her belly, felt her heart swell with love at the joyous grin that split his handsome face.
Her baby was moving, kicking within her womb.
He blinked, awareness coming back like a slap in the face. He stared rigidly at the ceiling, then slowly realized that his hand was rubbing the flat plane of his stomach over the blanket.
Turning his head he saw Teyla staring at him, but without the concern he’d been accustomed to seeing of late.
“Was it another memory, John?”
“Um, yeah. If that’s what… yeah. I guess.”
“You were smiling. I wasn’t sure if I should try to… to stop it, or call Carson. But you were smiling,” she repeated.
He felt heat rise to his face. Not sure why he should be ashamed of being seen smiling but embarrassed nonetheless. He knew Teyla was the sole of discretion, was very aware of how private he was. But he also knew she was dying to know what he’d seen, though she’d never ask it. And he realized, if there was anyone - anyone- he could share it with, she’d be the one.
“I think I was pregnant,” he whispered.
Teyla grinned broadly and lowered her mouth closer to his ear. “Did the small of your back ache?”
He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, I think it did.”
She sat back in her chair and nodded. “Then you were.”
“This… This is just weird,” he sighed loudly, dropping a hand to his forehead, then grimacing as he hit a lead. “And exhausting. Every time I try to fall asleep, it happens.”
“Have you tried some of the meditation techniques I’ve shown you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s the problem. Every time I try to clear my mind, find my happy place, I get whammied.”
“Perhaps Carson could give you something to help you sleep?”
Sleep would be good. To have his own dreams, or better yet, just the blankness of unconsciousness. And the ibuprofen wasn’t doing anything for his headache; in fact, it seemed to be getting worse.
By the time he’d figured out that yeah, something for sleep would be great just about now, he looked to see Teyla leaving the room. A minute later she returned with a nurse in tow.
“Dr Beckett had an order for these if you wanted them.” She handed over another of the small paper cups then pulled a bottle of water out of her smock pocket and offered that as well. Four pills, two yellow, two blue. At the questioning look he gave her the nurse said simply, “Sleep and pain. One bringeth and the other taketh away.”
With a grim smile he tossed back the pills and washed them down with a long pull on the bottle. Rearranged his leads so they weren’t pinching or tugging, then closed his eyes and tried to relax. Without relaxing.
Instead he built sudoku puzzles in his head, filling in the numbers in each section, then planning out the next three so one through none never appeared in the same row or the same section. He was on the very last section when Carson’s miracle meds finally kicked in and the wished for blankness finally came to him.
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He awoke abruptly, sat up and looked around. Teyla was curled up, asleep in the chair, her shoes kicked off and her tiny feet snugged up under her butt. The dim light of morning in the infirmary came in through the doorway and he could hear the bustle of carts being moved and low voices talking.
He found the forgotten bottle of water, thankfully capped, laying next to him on the bed. He took a few long drags off of it. Sleeping pills always made his mouth dry… and he snored, he’d been told. By Rodney on many occasions. Teyla must’ve been exhausted herself to sleep through the buzz saw.
A few rubs of his gummy eyes cleared his vision and woke him further. He was trying to figure out how exactly he was going to use the bathroom, tethered as he was by all the leads when Carson entered wearing a white lab coat and a broad smile.
“Morning, Colonel. You’ll be happy to know you slept through the night.”
“Yeah, I figured that out,” John answered dryly. “I didn’t…?”
The smile fell a little. “Aye, you did, lad. I recorded several more instances of brainwave interruption. You slept right through them. And I’m afraid there was no REM so you might not be feeling as rested as you should.” He pulled a penlight out of his pocket and snapped it on.
While John suffered through a quick exam Teyla woke up, stretched like a cat, and watched intently.
“How’s the head today?” Carson asked as light lanced through John’s left pupil.
“Was good until the penlight,” John grouched. Once the offending object was back in Carson’s pocket John lifted a hand to the leads. “You need to unhook me.”
“I’d rather not, lad. But look,” Carson said with a game smile. “It’s got wheels.” He pushed the cart holding the monitoring equipment a few inches on the floor.
John scowled, prepared to argue but his bladder wasn’t willing to wait. “Fine.” He got out of bed, wincing as his feet hit the cold floor, then wheeled his cart into the bathroom and shut the door.
Doing his business with a head and chestful of wires was going to be disconcerting at best, but Carson was right. Like mum and her hot rollers, the leads were beginning to become second nature.
That was until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on his way to the toilet. He stopped, leaned in over the sink, and stared. Like a mashup of Borg and Medusa, his face was pale and lined under all the wires. So much for a restful sleep.
As he stared at his reflection he saw another face take its place. A man, long reddish hair, a grey coat with a high button collar. As fast as it appeared another took its place. A woman, white-blonde hair piled high in a bun, wearing a loose caftan of dark blue silk. Face after face flickered like a filmstrip, each staring back at him from the mirror. Men and women, different ages, strange clothing. A man with kind eyes and a jagged scar across one cheek. A woman with sad eyes and a black cloth worn like a hijab. Then another man, heavily jowled, sparse silver hair, ice blue eyes. This one stayed, stared back coldly.
Pain like the world’s worst sinus headache times ten filled his head. Like it was going to burst and split wide open. He felt his knees give way, grabbed at the edge of the sink and managed to slow his fall enough that his shoulder took the brunt of the impact. He curled up, moaning as he grabbed at his head, then the humming of a thousand hornets filled his skull.
There was a rush of air, Carson’s voice shouting his name, then calling for a med team.
He felt his back arching, his jaw clenching. There was a rush of warmth and the strong ammonia smell of urine. Then the world went sideways and dark.
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She didn’t bother knocking. His outer office was empty, as he always made sure it was on the nights of their assignations, so there was no concern she’d be seen. Not that he’d really cared. Commander of the Vendelian Army carried its privileges, and those few to whom he answered knew of his…predilections.
She stood artfully framed in the doorway, letting him appreciate her exotic beauty. She had worn a gown of the red silk that he adored for the way it complemented her hair and coloring and the ease with which it ripped from her body.
He eased back on the bed as she stepped towards him. Her hand rose to her hair and pulled free the pin that held back a pile of curls. Dark green they were, almost black. Eyes almost the same color glittered within a face so pale it gleamed in the dim light of the room. She turned, preened for him as her fair fell in a dark fountain down her shoulders. As the light hit her skin it reflected iridescent, like the pearly inside of a seashell.
He could smell her. Spice and musk and keffir smoke.
As her hands began to pull at the shoulders of the gown he stood, grabbed her hands and stilled them. “Why so fast, Umana?”
She curled her fingers around his; they were cool and smooth. And strong. Very strong. “Oh, Morla, my love,” she crooned, rolling his name around his mouth. The Margite accent was strong, rounded the vowels and flattened the ‘r’. “Do not make me wait any longer. The nights we are apart are often too much for me to bear.”
“Oh?” he leered. “And tell me, what you do when it gets too much for you to bear.”
She whispered in his ear words that sent tendrils of warmth straight to his groin. When she bit his earlobe it was like an electric shock.
Lust overwhelmed him and their hands together ripped the crimson silk asunder to fall in two piles on the rug. She stood naked, perfect as an alabaster sculpture, her flesh cool to the touch but soft and giving under the pressure of his fingers. The fine soft hair at her vee was the same shade as the curls that cascaded over her shoulders.
She was perfection. More beautiful even than his Neridia, made more exotic by the inherent danger of their covert dalliances.
Then she was pushing him back, climbing into his lap to straddle him. Her strong, cool fingers undid the buttons at the top of his trousers nimbly, then began to reach inside.
He grabbed her hands, bent them back cruelly. She gasped with pain which made him harder than any touch ever could. I think it’s time we changed things up a bit, he said harshly. “Don’t you, my love?” he added with a mocking leer.
His grip tight on her wrists, he wrenched her around and flung her brutally onto the bed where she landed sprawled enticingly on her stomach. He traced the outline of her spine, reveled in watching the bones of her rib cage heaving with every gasping breath. “On my last trip to the baths I discovered something I think you’ll really enjoy. I know I did.”
His hands were at the unbuttoned top of his trousers when he heard the clamor of voices and an alien noise.
“Colonel!”
He was Commander. Commander Morla.
“Colonel!”
“John! Annie, shut the monitor off, please. And open his O2 wide. John!”
The high pitched squeal was silenced. Plastic covered his mouth and nose and he struggled against it, heaving for air.
“John, you need to settle down! You’re back. You’re in the infirmary in Atlantis, lad.”
Finally recognizing the cool rush of plastic scented air as coming from an oxygen mask, John stilled his struggles, took several deep breaths and tried to calm the hammering of his heart against his ribs.
“Wha?” He heard his voice muffled by the plastic and pulled it away. He needed answers more than oxygen. “What happened?”
He dug his elbows into the bed and tried sitting up, ignoring a sharp twinge in his shoulder. Felt a hand pressing him back at the same time he realized with a flush of embarrassment that he had an erection. He pulled back from the hand on his chest, crabbed backwards against the headboard and pulled the blankets into a pile over his crotch.
Heat rose to his face as he heard Carson speak softly to the nurse. She nodded and mercifully left the room.
Giving her a few seconds to get out of earshot, John finally hissed, “What the hell is going on, Carson?”
“First tell me what you remember.”
The bathroom. The faces in the mirror. Ice blue eyes. Falling. The smell of ammonia and wet warmth in his scrub pants. The fact he was in a gown now told him it was all real.
He averted his eyes, chewed on his lip, then muttered, “Not much.”
Carson looked thoughtfully at him then nodded. “Retrograde amnesia is common after a seizure. And you had a doozy.”
“Is that a medical term?” John asked sourly.
“Aye,” Carson said with a half smile. “Just a little lower on the scale than humdinger. How’s the shoulder?”
Forgotten, what with waking up with his tent pitched. He rotated it slowly in its socket. It pinged at him a little but wasn’t too bad. “I’ll live,” he grunted. “Right?”
When there was no answering snark back he sighed and shifted, pulled his knees up and tried to get more comfortable. At least the distraction was working on his little problem.
“Why did I have a seizure?”
“Well, I’m glad I insisted on the leads staying on. Several seconds after you entered the bathroom your brainwave activity went haywire. The bursts were short and rapid but I still managed to isolate what appear to be a dozen more sets of waves. Rodney wrote me a program to recognize similarities in the patterns and some appear multiple times while others are singularities.”
“A dozen more…”
“There’s something else, John,” Carson said quietly. “After your seizure one of the patterns stayed.”
“Stayed?”
“Aye, briefly. You came around soon after the seizure but… you weren’t you.”
“Well who the hell was I?” John snarled, his heart jackhammering in its bony cage.
“You said your name was Morla. Commander Morla.”
The name brought with it rapid fire flashes. The coppery smell of blood. Musk and perfume and smoke. He saw his hands covered in crimson- blood and silk.
Panic shot his heart rate even faster; his body vibrated with every beat and a light began flashing on a nearby monitor.
“Guards. You need to bring guards.”
“Relax, John. Your readings are--”
“I need guards, Carson. Now. I know what I - what he - the things he’s capable of.”
Carson nodded slowly, then put a hand to his earpiece. Spoke softly into it. A few minutes later Ronon stopped at the door with Teyla and Rodney trying to peer in around his broad frame.
John pulled into himself tighter, wrapped his arms around his knees. “You bring your gun?” was all he said.
“Conclusion”