Fic-"No Matter Where You Go, There You Are (2/2)
The helicopter was like nothing Teyla had ever been in. Jumpers, Ancient ships, Wraith vessels of every size- even the city herself. This machine was loud, and cramped. It had no inertial dampeners and it rocked with every buffet of wind from the storm. She clutched at her seatbelt and clamped her mouth down, lips between her teeth.
Paul and his partner, a younger man introduced as Chris, seemed unconcerned, at least. Chris handed her a blanket and a set of headphones and gestured for her to put them on as he did. He showed her the button, much like their own radios, and his voice crackled in her ear. “It’s not long to the hospital and Bob’s an excellent pilot.”
She nodded and pulled the blanket around her more tightly. Paul saw her shiver, glanced at the other medic. “Chris, turn the heat up back here.” Warm air quickly gusted out of vents near her feet.
He then turned his attentions to his patient. John was unconscious once more, and didn’t stir as Chris loosened straps and pulled the blanket back from John’s chest. Scissors slid up the middle of the fleece pullover and the tee-shirt he wore underneath.
Paul picked up the dog tags that nestled in the hair on John’s chest. He smiled. “Hey, Bob. Got yourself another Zoomie. This one’s got silver oak leaves.”
The unseen pilot’s voice came on the radio. “Oh, yeah? Don’t let him know a former squid’s working on him.”
Paul peeled the sticker off a cardiac lead. “Wouldn’t dream of it. What’s our ETA?”
“Twenty minutes. How’s he doing?”
“Holding his own. Have the neuro team ready on the pad.”
“Roger that.”
“Warmer at last, Teyla slipped a hand from the blanket and with a nod from the doctor took John’s hand back in hers.”
Chris peeled John’s eyelids open, flicked a penlight over them. She noticed the grim set to his mouth. “The medic on the ground said his pupils are uneven. This means brain injury, does it not?”
“ECTC has the county’s best neuros on staff. He’ll be in good hands.”
She didn’t miss the evasion of her question. Before she could comment the chopper dropped abruptly and this time she couldn’t hold back the gasp.
John’s unswollen eye fluttered open and his hands began straining against the straps. She could see his lips moving as rapid breaths misted the inside of the oxygen mask.
Paul tapped his mic as he scanned the monitor. “Status, Bob?”
“Copacetic. ETA in ten.”
The medic adjusted the oxygen and placed a calming hand on John’s shoulder. “Bumps are upsetting our passenger. Think you can smooth out the ride?”
“Five by.”
He lowered his mouth close to John’s ear, spoke loudly over the clamor. “Colonel Sheppard, good to have you back. We’re in that creaky old BK117 you disparaged, but I’ll try not to hold it against you.” He sidled down to the end of the stretcher and pulled John’s boots off. He took the end of the penlight and stroked it up the sole of John’s foot. Teyla watched as John’s toes curled downward, saw the medic’s grin widen.
“Is that good?”
“Very. Chris - if his sats are still holding, switch him out to cannula. See if I can get some neuro checks for the docs.”
His partner exchanged the oxygen mask for a thin tube he wrapped under John’s nose, then placed one of the speakers from a headset over the side not covered in thick, bloody gauze and the mic over his lips.
“Can you hear me now, Colonel? No- don’t try to nod. I’ve got you on radio. Can you tell me if you feel any pain?”
Teyla heard John’s answering whisper in her head. “H-head.”
“Yeah, you banged it pretty good. Anything else?”
John didn’t answer but his good eye darted about until it locked on Teyla’s. It widened and she smiled encouragingly at him. “Teyla?”
“Yes, John.”
“We-take fire?”
The two medics exchanged glances as Teyla scrambled. She knew John had been a soldier long before his arrival in her galaxy. “No, John. We are not in - - Afghanistan.” She hoped she had remembered the name correctly. “We are in New York. You wanted me to see Niagara Falls.”
“You two newlyweds?” Chris asked.
She felt her face flush. “We are - family. But we are not from the United States. We were on a - road trip.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure you guys make it then.”
The chopper landed on the roof of the hospital. John’s seizure started as the stretcher was being wheeled through the snow to the open door.
A medical team, winter coats over scrubs, swarmed around the stretcher, shouting as they pushed the wheels through the snow cover.
Paul took her arm and helped her follow along behind. The first elevator was packed with people and equipment so they waited for another. By the time they were in the emergency room John had disappeared within the honeycomb of curtained cubicles.
“Where have they taken him?”
Paul continued to steer her by her good arm, weaved her through the maze of white. She heard voices battling over each other, orders being rattled off, and it grew louder as they walked.
A nurse, gray-haired fireplug in aqua scrubs, rounded a corner in a hurry and pulled to an abrupt stop in front of them. Her face was stern but relaxed into recognition. “Paul - you bring in the head trauma?”
“His name is John. Is he all right?” Teyla broke in.
The sternness returned - it seemed her natural expression. “And you are, ma’am?”
Before she could fumble for an answer Paul eased her into the cubicle next to where they could hear John being worked on. “She’s family, Deb. And she’s got a possible shoulder dislocation.”
“It’s all hands on deck in there right now. She’ll have to wait.” She cast a scrutinizing gaze over Teyla, taking in the blanket and the shivers that had returned with their dash through the snow. “For Pete’s sake, Paul - you didn’t mention the hypothermia. Get her into a bed - I’ll have someone bring some blankets. You know where the gowns and warmed saline are.” Then she bustled off without another word.
Paul shrugged. “She means well. And she’s head nurse on the trauma team. The colonel’s getting the best of care; now we need to get you taken care of.”
Ronon was out of the Trooper’s car before it had even come to a complete stop. He burst through a set of glass doors and got three strides into the lobby before stopping in his tracks, confronted with his first major urban ER. The hospitals on Sateda had been regional, smaller clinics with open wards. The waiting area was the size of the cafeteria back on Atlantis. Rows of seats were filled with people slumped in chairs- bloody hands, makeshift bandages. Coughing, moaning, sleeping.
Glassed in offices covered the far wall and next to them two massive beige automatic doors. Flanking the doors were bulked up men in black uniforms, badges on their chests, sidearms on their hips.
He started for the doors, felt a hand on his arm and he swung around.
Haskins was at his side, his tan uniform stained dark with snowmelt. “Easy there, Mr. Dex. You try to push your way through those doors without permission and those big fellows are gonna stop you. Then they’ll call the police. Which is me. So if you’ll hold on a second, I’ll see where your friends are at.”
The officer went up to one of the glass windows then waved Ronon forward. The guards nodded at Haskins and gave Ronon a studied look as he elbowed past them.
They wended their way through a labyrinth of cubicles, passed beds with blanket-covered people, and stopped in front of a curtain with a small flag pinned to it, identifying it as number nine. “The lady’s in there. I’ll be in the office filling out paperwork for at least an hour. I can give you a ride to a hotel.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Haskins shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Ronon grabbed his arm as he turned on a heel. “Sorry. I’m just … thanks. For everything.”
The Trooper nodded. “ Hope your friend makes it. Best of luck.”
Teyla was sitting on the bed, a robe and blanket wrapped over her. An IV in her arm was the only medical equipment. When she saw him she stood, wrapped her arms around him and began sobbing.
He held her tightly as his heart began pounding. “Is he -?”
She snuffled, shook her head against him. Her voice was muffled in his sweatshirt. “No. I’m sorry - I’ve just been - “
She pulled away, wiped her nose on her robe sleeve. “They are still working on him. He had a seizure, in the helicopter. They have not allowed me to see him and no one has told me anything.”
“I’ll find someone who will talk.”
“Ronon, no. Please. Just stay with me.”
His desire for answers, his itch to just do something that had built through the car ride here had him bouncing on his toes, ready to take off.
But one look at Teyla, eyes red, tears covering her cheeks, bare legs with white-socked feet sticking out from the ugly hospital gown. She’d never looked so small.
He heaved himself onto the bed next to her, put his arm around her, and waited for answers.
Ronon’s arm was warm around her. She grew drowsy, and allowed herself to drift, trusting that Ronon would alert her if there was news. She was awakened by an achingly familiar voice and she opened her eyes, expecting to be back in her bed in Atlantis. Because she heard the voice of Rodney McKay.
When she felt Ronon suddenly stand up from the bed and go to the cubicle opening she realized he had heard it too.
The curtain pushed open and there he stood. “Ah, there you are.” Before he could utter another word Ronon grabbed him in bear hug, clapped him hard on the back.
Rodney returned the hug with a tentative pat then sighed and just let the big man squeeze.
“Please tell me this hug isn’t because of something bad,” he muttered through Ronon’s armpit.
Ronon pulled away and sat back down on the bed. “We don’t know anything yet. But Sheppard’s hurt pretty bad.”
“Of course he is,” Rodney sighed. “Are you guys okay? Teyla?”
“I am fine, Rodney. And we are very happy to see you. But how did you find us here?”
“Oh, yeah, I guess that would be unexpected. They pulled Sheppard’s dog tag ID and called the Niagara Falls Air Force Base, asking if they’d lost any colonels. They called the Pentagon, the Pentagon called NORAD and NORAD called Cheyenne Mountain”
“And they alerted you?” Teyla prompted.
“Nooo… let’s just say that when you guys left on your Great American Road Trip,” he air quoted, “I might have been just a little bit… concerned.”
“You mean worried,” Ronon grunted.
“Yes, okay, worried,” Rodney returned. “And I guess with reason, yes? So I hacked into the SGC and inserted a crawler. Just a small program, but it flagged your names in the system. I was thinking more along the lines of bar fights and ID problems. Speaking of which,” he added with his rapid finger snaps, “I have these for you.” He pulled put two midnight blue leather booklets. “I took the liberty of making you Canadian. But, you are both legal aliens here in the US. Hm, that’s a little joke… Okay then. So yes, where was I? Oh, my crawler pinged me when your names flagged in the system. I back-traced the call to this hospital, figured our luck being what it was that one or all of you were badly hurt.”
But how did you get here so quickly, Rodney?
“Well, as you know, I have a lot of pull with the SGC. The Hammond happens to be in orbit making some upgrades and I demanded they beam me over.”
Ronon smirked - Rodney sighed. “Okay, maybe I begged. But medicine being as barbaric as it is, medicine without benefit of Ancient tech is just too horrifying to imagine.” He checked his watch, tapped the face in frustration. “What could be taking so long?”
“Rodney?”
“Oh, I brought reinforcements. Well, reinforcement. But the cavalry is a little tardy in showing up.” As if on cue, they heard a commotion growing closer.
“You needn’t be so pushy, ya jack-booted thug.”
“Oh, what kind of trouble is he in now? Carson?”
“Rodney!”
Their friend was flanked by a black-uniformed guard, one meaty hand planted on Carson’s shoulder. “Found him wandering the halls near the morgue. Claims to be a doctor but he’s got no ID.”
“Sorry, sir. Dr. McCoy would lose his head if it wasn’t attached. Brilliant surgeon but they always have to do a second sweep for left behind forceps and sponges. Here, you are, Doctor.” Rodney pulled a maroon passport from his coat pocket and handed it to the guard along with a hospital badge. “ He’s a visiting VIP. Jet lag…” The guard scanned the passport and badge, then folded it up and handed it to the Scot and left without a word.
After the guard had cleared the area Carson let out an explosive sigh. “Bloody hell, Rodney! Why didn’t you wait for me? You had the bloody map!”
“You were dilly-dallying!”
“I was getting this, Rodney!” Carson pulled out a handheld Ancient scanner.
Rodney toed the floor. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh. And really? Dr McCoy?” He rolled his eyes but soon that Carson smile was back on his cherubic face. “Right, sorry for the fuss. Ronon, Teyla, how are you two doing? Teyla love, are you all right?”
“I am well, Carson. My shoulder was only bruised. And I am very glad to see you. Both of you. Will they let you tend to John?”
Carson stared at the badge in his hand, then cocked his head at Rodney questioningly.
“I got you the badge! I didn’t exactly have a lot of time. The answer is… maybe? Depends on if they actually check. A little time at one of their stations and I might-“
“Fair enough, Rodney. I’m sure John is getting the best of care. And if I can get just a moment with him, I may be able to run a few scans. If he’s as bad off as you think, moving him would be out of the question anyway, Hammond or no.”
“I didn’t bring you here to fret like a father pacing the maternity waiting room, Carson.”
After a beat Carson sighed and nodded. “Aye, nothing ventured, nothing gained.” He pinned his badge into place on his sweater and headed off.
“I guess we’ll know if we hear security being paged,” Rodney muttered. “So. What happened?”
Rodney’s efforts must have been good enough, or the staff was just too happy to have another doctor around to help. About half an hour later Carson returned and waved them all into John’s cubicle.
He’d been stripped, a sheet draped over his middle his only cover. Angry red marks striped across his chest and stomach from where he’d hung, suspended from the seatbelt. Bruising was beginning to purple at his shoulder and at the top of his hip before it disappeared under the sheet.
His face had been cleaned of the blood; now it was pale under his vacation beard stubble. His hair had been shaved from a large patch above his ear and a dark line of sutures ran in a two-inch long track against the pale white of his scalp.
Ice packs had been placed at his armpits and neck, his chest dotted with cardiac leads and each arm now bore an IV line. He was unconscious but shivers wracked his body in waves.
“Carson, we were in the snow - John was freezing when they pulled him out,” Teyla exclaimed. “Why are they doing this?”
“He may look cold, love, but he’s actually hyperthermic. It’s not uncommon with traumatic brain injury. It looks worse than it is. In fact, the cool down is part and parcel with the rest of his treatment.”
“It’s barbaric,” Rodney said stonily. “He looks miserable.”
“I promise you, Rodney. What you are seeing is a normal physiological reaction that John is likely unaware of. The doctors cleared him for a wee nip of morphine. As he likes to call it, comfortably numb.”
“Numb, maybe, but comfortably?”
“If the doctors cleared him for pain medication, what does that mean for his head injury?” Teyla asked, ignoring Rodney’s comment.
“Well, the good news is that they cleared his c-spine-his back and neck-of injury. Ultrasound showed minimal splenic bleeding, likely from the seatbelt. It should resolve itself -“
“And if it doesn’t?” Ronon asked for them all.
Caron sighed and rubbed his chin. “For most people, removal of the spleen has few life-changing complications. But with the amount of blood our colonel seems to lose on a fairly regular basis-- it could mean he’d be resigned to a desk. At best.”
“And the 800 lb gorilla in the room that isn’t Ronon?” Rodney bit out.
“Aye, his head. He has a subdural hematoma at the point of impact and another smaller one on the opposing side when the brain hit the inside of the brainpan. Having him transported by air was a true blessing. They were able to start him on medication to keep his brain from swelling and slow the bleeding. And before you can ask, Rodney, my scanners show the same. I promise you all, he is getting nearly the same degree of care he’d receive in our own infirmary.”
“Nearly?”
Carson smiled softly. “I like to think Jennifer or I lend a certain something extra. But be that as it may, he canna be moved anyway. It’s a matter of waiting right now, to see if the bleeds resolve or need surgical intervention.”
“Well then, we shall wait.” Teyla wrapped her hand around John’s. It was warm and dry; she could feel the calluses on his trigger finger. There was a hand on her shoulder then, and a stool was pushed up behind her. She gratefully sank down, weary and sore.
Another shiver ran through John’s body all the way down his arm. She squeezed his hand, as if she could quell the shaking. She felt his fingers twitch in hers-then pressure back.
“John?”
His eyes fluttered as the calluses rubbed rough on her own.
Carson bustled over, laid a hand on John’s shoulder. “John, it’s Carson Beckett. Can you open your eyes for me, for just a tick, lad?”
John blinked a few times, managed to keep his eyes open for a moment. His brow furrowed and he licked his bottom lip. The furrow grew deeper and he muttered a raspy, “Crap.”
Carson huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Not sure why I get that reception, lad.”
John narrowed his eyes, then looked lazily around the room before meeting Teyla’s.
“Thought I had it sorted out.”
“Had what sorted, John?”
“You said… we were in New York. Not ‘lantis.”
Rodney leaned over and put his gaze in John’s path of sight. “You are. Mohammed came to the mountain.”
“Och, Rodney. You’ll just confuse the man more.”
“Sheppard, you are in New York. But we kinda have this thing, right? We all wait by each other’s bedsides. Since you appear to be here for the foreseeable future, we came to you.”
“Ronon?”
“Right here.” The big man reached out and squeezed an ankle.
John fixed a blurry gaze on him, raised a shaky eyebrow. “Next time… steer into the skid.”
Rodney smiled and bounced on his toes. “Hm. Normally he’s berating me about my driving.”
“So you remember what happened, John?” Teyla urged.
His eyes dropped closed and he didn’t speak for a moment. He shivered again and his hand fumbled at the sheet. Muttered, “Cold,” and tried to pull the covering higher. Carson stilled his hand. “Sorry, lad. Cold it is for a wee bit. Can you answer Teyla’s question?”
They waited through another wave of tremors before he finally asked, “Was the chopper real?”
“It was, John.” Teyla answered. She held his hand tighter. “Carson said the flight saved your life.”
A small smile quirked at John’s mouth. “Seems appropriate.”
Ronon snagged another drink from the server’s tray with a grin and a nod of thanks. He’d been told it was called a pina colada- it came with a tiny pink umbrella speared through a chunk of pineapple and almost too sweet bright red cherry. He scraped the fruit off with his teeth and threw the umbrella. It landed right next to the blue one already laying on Rodney’s stomach.
“I can feel those, you know.” But he made no move to fling them off. Just continued to lie there, covered, literally, head to toe by a beach towel of a garish, tropical print.
You should not have told them they were girl drinks, Rodney, Teyla said with an arched brow. Her drink was a sunny yellow with its own umbrella piercing a giant lemon wedge. Her swimsuit echoed it, bright orange with yellow polka dots. John had sung the line of a song that had Carson and Rodney doubled over laughing but Ronon, as per usual, didn’t get the reference.
Carson looked up from his paperback. “You do have a way of getting under people’s skin, Rodney.”
The offended physicist flung back the towel and peeked his head out, like a turtle from its shell. “What did I do to you?”
“Really now? Dr. ? It’s not even a Scottish name.”
Rodney spluttered. “It’s Scots-Irish. And I was in a hurry and - I was inspired. It felt right.”
“If it helps, Doc, I wont ever call you Bones again,” John said from his chair. He wore low-slung khaki shorts and a loose-fit, faded black t-shirt that read Singer Salvage in worn white letters. A brimmed khaki hat sat on the table next to a cell phone and bottle of water.
“See?” Rodney piped up. “He’s already Kirk. Actually, with you, we get Scotty, too.”
“Yes, and I suppose that makes you Spock, then?”
Rodney bobbled his head with a musing smile. “I always vacillated between him or Data. Spock also seemed a bit cold and impersonal, which really when you think about it…”
“Spock it is,” John said dryly.
“But -“
Ronon shifted in his lounger, felt the sweat that had pooled between his bare skin and the plastic chair. For change, he knew this one. “Star Trek, right? Who am I?”
John grinned. “That’s easy big guy. Worf.”
“Klingon warrior.” Ronon’s answering grin was wide. “Yeah, that works for me.”
“And where do I fit in, in this scenario?” Teyla asked coolly.
There was quiet for a moment. Then John rubbed at the incision under his t-shirt. The doctors had eventually needed to go in for a repair but Beckett had insisted that it would fully heal eventually. “Uhura.”
“Uhura?” Teyla echoed. “Was she not simply the communications officer, forced to wear miniskirts and utter the same line in every episode?”
John’s eyes grew wide. “No. No, Uhura was bad ass. She got to kick some butt… sometimes.”
“She was hot,” Ronon added.
John nodded furiously. “Yes, yes she was. Very hot. And smart. And did I mention bad ass?”
“Gosh, remember Plato’s Stepchildren? Kirk and Uhura had this smoldering hot kiss… I’m telling you, I always wondered if the two of them wouldn’t hook up eventually...”
“John,” Carson said suddenly. “I think you’d best put your hat back on. You’ve gone all pink in the cheeks.”
Ronon grinned madly while John shoved the hat on his head and pulled the brim down over his eyes. He took a quick chug of the bottled water, wiped a hand across his mouth. “Yeah, thanks, Carson. Actually, uh, I changed my mind. Forgot about Tasha Yar.”
Rodney shot a finger in the air. “Of course. There you go. See? Next Generation fixed the original’s lack of strong female characters.”
Teyla held her drink in front of her own pink-blushed face. Took a long pull on her straw and nodded. “Thank you, John. Tasha was a brave warrior. And she sacrificed herself to save her commanding officer.”
John was saved from digging himself in any deeper by the sound of his cell phone ringing on the table.
“Yeah, hi, Dave… Yeah. Yeah, I did. You’re always telling me I need to be more of a voice at the Foundation…. Yes. … Yes, I’m fully aware how much a new BK117 costs… I’ll make sure they stick the Sheppard name on it someplace, okay? Yeah…. Okay. No, I’m doing okay.” His voice lowered a little. “Yeah, I’m still getting the headaches but the doc said they’d resolve….” He chuffed a laugh and rubbed at his head through the hat. “Yeah, hair’s even growing back… Definitely the most important thing… Yes, little brother, R & R, only. Thanks again for the condo. You were right; Key West was just what the doctor ordered…. Yeah, talk to you again soon. Take care.” He thumbed the phone off and saw everyone striving to look like they weren’t listening to the conversation.
“It was Dave,” he said needlessly. “Wanted to make sure the condo was okay.”
“It is beautiful here, John.”
“Yeah, you know if you’d decided to come here instead of touring wheat fields and driving through snow storms, I might have come along in the first place,” Rodney said from back under the towel.
“I am glad we got to see the Falls, though,” Teyla said. Thank you again, Rodney, for taking us.”
The towel nodded. “Just be glad I got you Canadian passports. The view from Canada is a hundred times better.”
“Yeah, but it’s a view of our Falls, Rodney.”
“Not much good if you can’t see them…” the towel sing-songed.
Ronon gulped down the rest of his drink, enjoying the creamy coating on his tongue and the buzzy warmth suffusing his veins that rivaled the sun’s rays.
He’d gotten to see a lot of America. From corn to apples, mountains to plains, from snow to palm trees. Much was reminiscent of his own Sateda, and much was definitely not. But for now, as long as they were all together and safe, he was happy to call it home.
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The End