Fic: Chase the Morning {34/37}
Part Four: Freedom’s Call
Chapter One: Wounded
Date: February 12, 8 A.I. [2008]
Location: Atlantis Base, Colorado
The Atlantis infirmary was filled almost to capacity with those residents of the underwater city who had been injured in the battles both on land and in space, including John Sheppard, who was laying in one of the beds, a cast ensheathing his right arm. He had broken it when a Dart had slammed into the Jumper and sent it spiraling out of control, the inertial dampeners going on the fritz for just long enough to throw John out of his chair and slam him into one of the walls, snapping the bone neatly in two. Luckily, there had been another ATA gene holder on board, Lieutenant Newcombe, and he’d been able to get the Jumper back under control, the inertial dampeners coming back online just in time.
Carson bustled over, his stethoscope swinging against his chest as he moved. ‘Alright, John,’ he said, coming up to John’s bedside. ‘You’re going to have to move out of that bed; we need it for other patients.’
‘I’m injured, Carson.’ John tried to protest, not wanting to relinquish the comfortable pile of pillows.
‘Aye, but not as severely as Sergeant Matheson. You’ve been cleared to go, and I know that your team is anxious to see you. I’ve been having a hard time keeping them out, Rodney especially. You know how he gets.’
John smirked. ‘Yeah, I guess.’ He levered himself to his feet and stood still while Carson outfitted him with a sling. ‘How long do I have to have this thing on, anyways?’
‘At least three weeks, less if you come in for a few short healing sessions with Doctor Yates,’ Carson told him, mentioning one of the Tok’ra doctors on staff. ‘I’d much prefer you let your body heal naturally for at least two weeks; I’ve never entirely trusted the healing devices, and you can develop an immunity to them if they’re used too often on simple injuries.’
‘Alright. We’ll see what I’ve got going on. I’ll try to come in, I promise.’ John said. Carson just gave him a skeptical look and shooed him out of the infirmary, waving down a nurse to help him change the linens of John’s recently vacated bed. John wandered around the halls of Atlantis, nodding in greeting to the various people he passed. He’d much rather be back in bed, but since Carson had effectively kicked him out for the next few days, he’d have to deal with his own bed. It wasn’t that it was an uncomfortable bed, but somehow, the pillows in the infirmary were always much more comfortable than the ones given out to the general population.
John was just passing one of the science labs, wondering if Carson hoarded the most comfortable pillows for his patients, when he heard voices coming from the room he’d just passed. They were arguing, though there wasn’t much venom behind the words. Recognizing the lab as Radek’s, John wandered into the room and leaned against one of the walls, idly readjusting the strap on his sling as he did so. Radek, Rodney, and Jess were all in there, conversing about some of the data they’d been able to recover from one of the Strongholds. Rodney had a bandage around one arm, visible only because he was wearing a t-shirt, the bright blue bandage marking him as a blood donor. Jess was listening to Rodney and Radek debating back and forth, occasionally breaking into the conversation and adding her own point of view.
The entire situation made John grin, glad to see that life had returned to a small degree of normality so soon. He made himself comfortable on a nearby chair, surprising the hell out of the three scientists when he made his own contribution to the conversation. The four Lanteans continued their banter, the feeling of relief from finally having the weight of living under the Wraith’s oppression palpable in the air.
Off in an entirely different section of Atlantis, Peter Kavanagh and his wife were enjoying some time alone, simply relaxing in the presence of one another. They lay on one of the grassy areas in between two of the piers jutting out from the main spire of Atlantis, a blanket spread out beneath them. Nearby, one of the Marines was playing an acoustic guitar, and a small crowd had gathered, taking seats around the talented soldier and occasionally requesting songs. If the Marine didn’t know one, the guitar was passed to someone who did.
Peter sat up when one of the botanists requested “Famous Blue Raincoat” by Leonard Cohen, propping himself up on an elbow. ‘I know that one,’ he said, rising to a fully upright sitting position. The guitar was passed around the crowd until it reached him, and once he’d gotten comfortable with the instrument, Peter began to play, Sasha singing along with him. The melancholy melody rang out, a few of the other listeners singing softly. When Peter had finished playing, he segued into a much more upbeat rendition of “Yellow Submarine”, wanting to bring the mood up after the melancholy song. It worked like a charm, and soon there were smiles and laughter all around as the crowd sang along to the infectiously happy song.