SGA Fic: Reciprocal Symmetry ( 8 / 12 )
Title: Reciprocal Symmetry
Author: radioshack84
Rating: T
Word Count: ~45,600
Characters: John, Rodney, Carson, Elizabeth, Ronon, Teyla
Summary: Rodney is trapped underground and running out of air. Can John remember why he’s on PX9-253 in time to rescue him and if so, can they free themselves from the deadly technological trap they’re both already ensnared in?
Back to Part 7
Part 8 / 12 - Feedback’s a Bitch
John didn’t object to waiting until the evening to try Beckett’s experiment. For one thing, he knew his objection wouldn’t have changed Carson’s mind. For another, it actually felt good to sleep without being drugged. His headache had offered him a reprieve, so he made good use of the time and snoozed away the rest of the morning and a small slice of the afternoon following lunch. Unfortunately, it seemed that would be the extent of his uneventful day.
He awoke to find that another trip to the bathroom was in order and glanced around for a nurse. There wasn’t one since he was still in one of the lesser-traveled areas of the infirmary so John figured he’d just have to make do. Beckett had certified him capable of walking to the bathroom on the condition that someone go with him, but it wasn’t as though a nurse was going to be able to stop him from hitting the floor if he passed out anyhow.
Course of action decided, John began to sit up. His back didn’t seem to want him to move, however, and painfully announced its objection. Frowning in confusion as well as discomfort, he tried again, this time reaching out a stiff arm to the control that would adjust the bed. Even being elevated that way, with no effort on his part, had his muscles screaming and John let his hand fall back to the mattress. He wasn’t quite halfway upright. For good measure he flexed his knees, and received much the same result for his trouble. Now this posed a bit of a problem.
Sheppard let the pain subside a little while he considered his limited options. He could call for a nurse, bring attention to the aches-which he could no longer attribute entirely to laying in bed for two days-and likely get his bathroom privileges revoked. Or he could not alert anyone and find himself in a much more embarrassing situation in a few minutes’ time. John sighed. Sometimes his life sucked. He reached for the call button and pressed it.
To his surprise, it was a flustered-looking Carson who answered the page a minute later. “Don’t you have a staff anymore?” John asked curiously.
“Sometimes I wonder, lad. Did ya need something?”
“All that liquid you’ve been pumping into me wants back out again,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.
Beckett narrowed his eyes at Sheppard. “And since when do ya listen ta me about having someone go with ya?”
Damn, he caught on fast. “Uh, well, that’s an interesting story…”
Carson let out a resigned sigh. “Is this the kind of interesting that’s going ta have me spendin’ another two hours in surgery stitchin’ ya up or the kind that involves fifty wee salamanders crawlin’ all over the ward?”
“They didn’t.” John’s expression darkened as he realized what Carson’s second type of interesting must mean.
“I’m afraid they did.”
“Sorry, Doc. My men are so dead when I get out of here.”
“Aye, well, you’ll have ta take on whoever’s left when Elizabeth gets done with ‘em then. In fact, ya might as well just let her take care of it. I hear that whoever it was did quite the number on her office last night as well.”
“Let me guess, iguanas,” John said flatly.
Carson shook his head. “I’m going ta leave it up ta her ta tell ya. What I’ve heard are only rumors. Now, care ta tell me your interesting story, Colonel?”
“Well, it doesn’t sound interesting at all compared to that.” John raised an eyebrow. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I think ya know me better than that, Colonel,” Carson was beginning to look concerned. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Okay, but then I’m going to the bathroom whether it takes a gurney to get me there or not, deal?”
Beckett crossed his arms in front of him. “Ya know I’m not in the business of makin’ deals I can’t honor, Colonel. Now out with it.”
“I, um, well…I’m having a little trouble getting up at the moment, and for previously-mentioned reasons that’s starting to be a problem.”
“Define ‘a little trouble’.”
“It hurts to move. My muscles ache, and it feels like I’ve got arthritis in every joint in my body.”
“Is it the same way ya felt right before…” Carson gestured to the colonel’s arm.
John’s eyes grew wide in alarm. “Oh, no. Where’s McKay? I told him to be careful!”
“No, no. Take it easy, lad. I’m not saying the two are related. I was just trying ta figure out how long you’d been having the pain.”
Sheppard took a deep breath to calm his nerves and let it out before he answered. “I think it’s sort of been constant since we came back from PX9-253, but it comes and goes like the headache.”
“And ya already tried getting up?”
“Come on, Doc. You know I don’t take your advice about having someone go with me.” John grinned, but there was a certain unease beneath the humor.
“Aye, that’s why this worries me a little. I may want ta get another scan, but first things first. Do ya want ta try it again?”
“I suppose I’d better unless I want bigger problems.”
“All right, just relax then. I’m going ta raise the bed a bit and we’ll see how ya do from there.”
John nodded and let out another breath as Carson pressed the control on the side of the bed. It had inclined perhaps three inches when Sheppard cringed, the change in position stretching the muscles in his back. “Keep going,” he said tensely to Beckett, who was watching him closely and had surely noticed his discomfort. The doctor looked skeptical, but did as requested. By the time John was upright, he could feel beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His lower back felt like it was being crushed by the vise it was evidently in, and even his hips were beginning to ache from supporting more of his weight.
“Maybe this isn’t the best of ideas, Colonel. There are other ways ya can take care of business, at least until you’re not hurting so much.”
It was the thought of those ‘other ways’ that strengthened John’s resolve, and, pushing away the covers as far as possible with his fingertips, he gritted his teeth and quickly swung his legs around. The wave of pain, however expected, was still enough to draw a quiet moan from John. He gripped the edge of the bed tightly with his good hand as he waited for it to pass. “Crap, I think I have new respect for why old folks are so damned cranky,” he said breathlessly. He looked up at Carson, supposing he should be a little apprehensive about how concerned the doc’s expression was, but he literally had more urgent things to think about. “Let’s do this.”
“Aye, and then I’m gettin’ ya under the scanner. I’ll feel a whole lot better once I have an idea what’s causing this.”
-----
Of all the times he’d been oblivious to the world around him, whether due to unconsciousness, sleep, or medication, the ten minutes that followed were ten minutes Sheppard decided he’d have rather not been aware of. He had to admit that maybe, just maybe, when Beckett referred to him as stubborn the man had a point. John also agreed, in hindsight, that it would’ve been preferable to suffer the indignity of using a urinal rather than suffering the throbbing pain that had assailed almost every part of his body on the trip to and from the bathroom. Now lying flat , and blessedly still as the scanner passed over him, the colonel drowsily reflected that Carson would likely insist on that particular indignity the next time around so he’d better get used to the idea. He was just grateful that the doc was refraining from saying ‘I told you so.’
John must have drifted for a moment because when he blinked back to awareness, the scanner had been moved aside and Carson was laying a blanket over him. The soft warmth on his skin was almost enough to drag his heavy eyelids closed again, but Sheppard fought against it. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”
“Ya have quite a bit of inflammation in your joints and muscles. As for why, I’ll need an hour or so ta analyze the results of the scan and compare them with the database’s information on the device. In the meantime, I’ll start ya on an anti-inflammatory which should help with the stiffness. It would be best if your mind was clear for this evening though, so I don’t want ta give ya anything too strong if ya can manage without it.”
“I’ll be fine as long as I don’t move,” John said with a wry smirk.
“Just be sure ya let someone know if you’re not. It would be best if your mind was clear, but that’s not ta say I want ya lyin’ here in pain either. Our experiment with Rodney can wait a bit longer if need be.”
“Time’s not exactly in my favor for figuring this out, Doc. Personally, I’d rather put up with being old for a few hours than keep having these headaches, so give me an ibuprofen and let’s stick with the plan, okay?”
Carson didn’t look entirely happy, but he nodded. The colonel did have a point. “All right. I’ll finish getting set up and give Rodney notice ta wrap up whatever he’s workin’ on. Take a nap, Colonel. Ya look like ya could use it.”
“The Rip Van Winkle jokes will never end at this rate,” John grumbled.
“Don’t worry, lad. We’ll have this all sorted out soon,” Beckett reassured him, and with a pat on the shoulder he was gone, leaving Sheppard to hope that he was right.
-----
There had been nothing nice or relaxing about Rodney’s day. He had managed to follow Sheppard’s request of not doing anything dangerous purely because there was nothing dangerous that he could possibly do with his lab in its current state. Sure, if he were an idiot there were plenty of ways he could have managed to slash, burn, or otherwise maim himself, but the terms ‘Rodney McKay’ and ‘idiot’ were never in history, nor would they ever in the future, be found in the same sentence. This was why when Carson notified him that it was time, McKay had been all too happy to leave his underlings in charge of the prank-spawned chaos that was the main science laboratory of Atlantis and head off to face his fate in the infirmary. It was bound to be less infuriating, even if it did prove to be infinitely more frightening.
The scientist slipped into the infirmary through a side entrance, wanting to check on Sheppard before this whole fiasco got started. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the colonel, he just wanted to make certain that the man was firing on all cylinders since he would soon be responsible for making sure Rodney’s brain didn’t leak out of his ears. Besides, McKay knew very well that all he would get from the colonel was his usual ‘I’m fine’ mantra if Carson was present.
As he approached Sheppard’s bed, Rodney thought maybe he should’ve brought Beckett along after all. His confidence regarding this evening’s activities was sinking rapidly into the yellow-more of a yellow-orange, really, not a cheerful canary yellow-and Rodney turned around and hurried toward Beckett’s office. The doctor looked up from his computer when McKay entered, but never had the chance to speak before the scientist started griping, “Okay, I’m going to assume that since you’re generally pretty good at the voodoo-mastery and such that you actually saw Sheppard before you called me. Based on that assumption, I have to ask why you think he’s going to be able to do any good at a mind-meld when he’s moaning and groaning in his sleep like his migraine’s come back to haunt him and brought its friends agony and torment along for the ride.”
“What?”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Oh for the love of…stop asking that! You heard me the first time. What’s wrong with Sheppard?”
Beckett frowned, pushing away from his desk and heading for the door even as he answered the scientist, “I wasn’t aware that anything serious was wrong. Anything new, that is.” The doctor chose to reserve further judgment until they reached the man in question. He found John much as Rodney had said, tossing and turning in his sleep, a grunt or whimper escaping now and again. “Bugger, why can’t he just listen ta me for once?” Carson muttered, shaking Sheppard’s shoulder gently. “Colonel? I need ya ta wake up now, lad.”
Sheppard mumbled something unintelligible and shifted again, but Carson tightened his grip slightly and the resistance was enough to bring John around with a start. “Craaap,” he groaned, his jaw clenched as he rode out the wave of pain the sudden move had caused.
“The suggestion ta tell one of us if ya were hurting wasn’t made for fun, Colonel.” Though his tone was exasperated, Beckett’s eyes were sympathetic.
John shrugged slightly, “I fell asleep and didn’t notice anything was wrong until now.” Just then, he noticed that Beckett wasn’t alone. “Hey, Rodney. Guess it’s time to get this show on the road, huh?”
“Maybe in a bit. Let’s see how you’re doing first.” Carson slipped on his stethoscope and began his usual routine as Sheppard looked to McKay for backup. McKay just crossed his arms and glared, which could’ve meant just about anything, but didn’t have much chance of indicating the scientist was going to plead John’s case to Carson.
Returning Rodney’s glare, just because he was in a serious mood to snipe at someone, John impatiently waited while Carson finished his exam. “Well?” he asked as the doctor was making notes on his chart.
“Your heart rate and respiration are quicker than normal, clear indicators that you’re in pain even if ya are too bloody stubborn ta admit it.” Carson cast a disapproving look his direction, then continued noting.
John sighed, though what he really wanted to do was punch something. Damn, but he was irritable. The pain was really beginning to wear on him. “I’m not trying to be difficult, Doc. Yes, I’m stiff and achy and feel like I should have about a hundred candles on my next birthday cake, but I’m not going to sit here and complain about it, and I’m definitely not going to delay getting this mind-meld crap settled just so I can take the good drugs and temporarily reduce the number of candles to a still-unacceptable seventy-two. You always say that to heal the symptoms you have to treat the cause. Well, we all know what the cause is here. Won’t shutting that thing down solve the problem?”
“Probably,” Carson allowed reluctantly. “As for the inflammation, I wasn’t able ta get a clear answer from the database. Making an educated guess based on the information contained there, your last scan, and the data Rodney has gathered, though, I’d say that the culprit is a sort of feedback from the device. The Ancients designed it ta work with one conscious and one unconscious person, presumably with some built-in mechanism ta dial back the strength of the mental connection as the latter was healed. You and Rodney, however, have both been conscious for the majority of the time you’ve been ‘connected’. Ta put it simply, it’s too much for the device ta handle, and when the two of ya disagree about somethin’ it puts even more stress on the connection, generating further information that the device doesn’t know how ta interpret, and the unfortunate result is the pain and headaches you’ve been experiencing, Colonel.”
Sheppard raised an eyebrow. “That’s a hell of an educated guess, Doc.”
“Yes, seriously, where did you come up with all of that? I mean, it would seem to make sense considering my data, but how did you manage to read my data? I’ve had my laptop since this morning, and none of the information has even been processed yet. It’s still all raw figures.”
“Ya may find it hard ta believe, Rodney, but I have worked with raw scientific data before, and I’ve also used enough Ancient medical equipment in the last couple of years ta make some fairly sound inferences based on their commonalities with your device.”
“Oh. Well, when you put it that way.”
The three men glanced amongst themselves for several seconds before Sheppard broke the cycle by dropping his eyes to his lap. “Guys, come on, all this back and forth is making me dizzy,” he looked sharply at Beckett, “figuratively speaking. Now tell me what I have to do to shut off that damn Ancient metal thing for good.”
“Without erasing random parts of my intellect,” added Rodney.
It was becoming very obvious to Carson that any further attempts at stalling would be met with annoyance at best. When Sheppard or McKay made up their minds about something it was difficult to convince them otherwise, but when both agreed it was nearly impossible. “Ya don’t need ta do a thing for the time being,” he told Sheppard. “Rodney, come with me and I’ll get ya some scrubs. I want ta give ya a quick once over and discuss some details before we get started. And you,” he pinned Sheppard with a look that promised the riot act plus possible acts of torture should he not heed the words, “will take the painkillers Megan brings ya and then rest until we’re ready, am I clear?”
Sheppard nodded in resignation. “You are. Thanks, Doc.”
On to Part 9
Author: radioshack84
Rating: T
Word Count: ~45,600
Characters: John, Rodney, Carson, Elizabeth, Ronon, Teyla
Summary: Rodney is trapped underground and running out of air. Can John remember why he’s on PX9-253 in time to rescue him and if so, can they free themselves from the deadly technological trap they’re both already ensnared in?
Back to Part 7
Part 8 / 12 - Feedback’s a Bitch
John didn’t object to waiting until the evening to try Beckett’s experiment. For one thing, he knew his objection wouldn’t have changed Carson’s mind. For another, it actually felt good to sleep without being drugged. His headache had offered him a reprieve, so he made good use of the time and snoozed away the rest of the morning and a small slice of the afternoon following lunch. Unfortunately, it seemed that would be the extent of his uneventful day.
He awoke to find that another trip to the bathroom was in order and glanced around for a nurse. There wasn’t one since he was still in one of the lesser-traveled areas of the infirmary so John figured he’d just have to make do. Beckett had certified him capable of walking to the bathroom on the condition that someone go with him, but it wasn’t as though a nurse was going to be able to stop him from hitting the floor if he passed out anyhow.
Course of action decided, John began to sit up. His back didn’t seem to want him to move, however, and painfully announced its objection. Frowning in confusion as well as discomfort, he tried again, this time reaching out a stiff arm to the control that would adjust the bed. Even being elevated that way, with no effort on his part, had his muscles screaming and John let his hand fall back to the mattress. He wasn’t quite halfway upright. For good measure he flexed his knees, and received much the same result for his trouble. Now this posed a bit of a problem.
Sheppard let the pain subside a little while he considered his limited options. He could call for a nurse, bring attention to the aches-which he could no longer attribute entirely to laying in bed for two days-and likely get his bathroom privileges revoked. Or he could not alert anyone and find himself in a much more embarrassing situation in a few minutes’ time. John sighed. Sometimes his life sucked. He reached for the call button and pressed it.
To his surprise, it was a flustered-looking Carson who answered the page a minute later. “Don’t you have a staff anymore?” John asked curiously.
“Sometimes I wonder, lad. Did ya need something?”
“All that liquid you’ve been pumping into me wants back out again,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.
Beckett narrowed his eyes at Sheppard. “And since when do ya listen ta me about having someone go with ya?”
Damn, he caught on fast. “Uh, well, that’s an interesting story…”
Carson let out a resigned sigh. “Is this the kind of interesting that’s going ta have me spendin’ another two hours in surgery stitchin’ ya up or the kind that involves fifty wee salamanders crawlin’ all over the ward?”
“They didn’t.” John’s expression darkened as he realized what Carson’s second type of interesting must mean.
“I’m afraid they did.”
“Sorry, Doc. My men are so dead when I get out of here.”
“Aye, well, you’ll have ta take on whoever’s left when Elizabeth gets done with ‘em then. In fact, ya might as well just let her take care of it. I hear that whoever it was did quite the number on her office last night as well.”
“Let me guess, iguanas,” John said flatly.
Carson shook his head. “I’m going ta leave it up ta her ta tell ya. What I’ve heard are only rumors. Now, care ta tell me your interesting story, Colonel?”
“Well, it doesn’t sound interesting at all compared to that.” John raised an eyebrow. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I think ya know me better than that, Colonel,” Carson was beginning to look concerned. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Okay, but then I’m going to the bathroom whether it takes a gurney to get me there or not, deal?”
Beckett crossed his arms in front of him. “Ya know I’m not in the business of makin’ deals I can’t honor, Colonel. Now out with it.”
“I, um, well…I’m having a little trouble getting up at the moment, and for previously-mentioned reasons that’s starting to be a problem.”
“Define ‘a little trouble’.”
“It hurts to move. My muscles ache, and it feels like I’ve got arthritis in every joint in my body.”
“Is it the same way ya felt right before…” Carson gestured to the colonel’s arm.
John’s eyes grew wide in alarm. “Oh, no. Where’s McKay? I told him to be careful!”
“No, no. Take it easy, lad. I’m not saying the two are related. I was just trying ta figure out how long you’d been having the pain.”
Sheppard took a deep breath to calm his nerves and let it out before he answered. “I think it’s sort of been constant since we came back from PX9-253, but it comes and goes like the headache.”
“And ya already tried getting up?”
“Come on, Doc. You know I don’t take your advice about having someone go with me.” John grinned, but there was a certain unease beneath the humor.
“Aye, that’s why this worries me a little. I may want ta get another scan, but first things first. Do ya want ta try it again?”
“I suppose I’d better unless I want bigger problems.”
“All right, just relax then. I’m going ta raise the bed a bit and we’ll see how ya do from there.”
John nodded and let out another breath as Carson pressed the control on the side of the bed. It had inclined perhaps three inches when Sheppard cringed, the change in position stretching the muscles in his back. “Keep going,” he said tensely to Beckett, who was watching him closely and had surely noticed his discomfort. The doctor looked skeptical, but did as requested. By the time John was upright, he could feel beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His lower back felt like it was being crushed by the vise it was evidently in, and even his hips were beginning to ache from supporting more of his weight.
“Maybe this isn’t the best of ideas, Colonel. There are other ways ya can take care of business, at least until you’re not hurting so much.”
It was the thought of those ‘other ways’ that strengthened John’s resolve, and, pushing away the covers as far as possible with his fingertips, he gritted his teeth and quickly swung his legs around. The wave of pain, however expected, was still enough to draw a quiet moan from John. He gripped the edge of the bed tightly with his good hand as he waited for it to pass. “Crap, I think I have new respect for why old folks are so damned cranky,” he said breathlessly. He looked up at Carson, supposing he should be a little apprehensive about how concerned the doc’s expression was, but he literally had more urgent things to think about. “Let’s do this.”
“Aye, and then I’m gettin’ ya under the scanner. I’ll feel a whole lot better once I have an idea what’s causing this.”
-----
Of all the times he’d been oblivious to the world around him, whether due to unconsciousness, sleep, or medication, the ten minutes that followed were ten minutes Sheppard decided he’d have rather not been aware of. He had to admit that maybe, just maybe, when Beckett referred to him as stubborn the man had a point. John also agreed, in hindsight, that it would’ve been preferable to suffer the indignity of using a urinal rather than suffering the throbbing pain that had assailed almost every part of his body on the trip to and from the bathroom. Now lying flat , and blessedly still as the scanner passed over him, the colonel drowsily reflected that Carson would likely insist on that particular indignity the next time around so he’d better get used to the idea. He was just grateful that the doc was refraining from saying ‘I told you so.’
John must have drifted for a moment because when he blinked back to awareness, the scanner had been moved aside and Carson was laying a blanket over him. The soft warmth on his skin was almost enough to drag his heavy eyelids closed again, but Sheppard fought against it. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”
“Ya have quite a bit of inflammation in your joints and muscles. As for why, I’ll need an hour or so ta analyze the results of the scan and compare them with the database’s information on the device. In the meantime, I’ll start ya on an anti-inflammatory which should help with the stiffness. It would be best if your mind was clear for this evening though, so I don’t want ta give ya anything too strong if ya can manage without it.”
“I’ll be fine as long as I don’t move,” John said with a wry smirk.
“Just be sure ya let someone know if you’re not. It would be best if your mind was clear, but that’s not ta say I want ya lyin’ here in pain either. Our experiment with Rodney can wait a bit longer if need be.”
“Time’s not exactly in my favor for figuring this out, Doc. Personally, I’d rather put up with being old for a few hours than keep having these headaches, so give me an ibuprofen and let’s stick with the plan, okay?”
Carson didn’t look entirely happy, but he nodded. The colonel did have a point. “All right. I’ll finish getting set up and give Rodney notice ta wrap up whatever he’s workin’ on. Take a nap, Colonel. Ya look like ya could use it.”
“The Rip Van Winkle jokes will never end at this rate,” John grumbled.
“Don’t worry, lad. We’ll have this all sorted out soon,” Beckett reassured him, and with a pat on the shoulder he was gone, leaving Sheppard to hope that he was right.
-----
There had been nothing nice or relaxing about Rodney’s day. He had managed to follow Sheppard’s request of not doing anything dangerous purely because there was nothing dangerous that he could possibly do with his lab in its current state. Sure, if he were an idiot there were plenty of ways he could have managed to slash, burn, or otherwise maim himself, but the terms ‘Rodney McKay’ and ‘idiot’ were never in history, nor would they ever in the future, be found in the same sentence. This was why when Carson notified him that it was time, McKay had been all too happy to leave his underlings in charge of the prank-spawned chaos that was the main science laboratory of Atlantis and head off to face his fate in the infirmary. It was bound to be less infuriating, even if it did prove to be infinitely more frightening.
The scientist slipped into the infirmary through a side entrance, wanting to check on Sheppard before this whole fiasco got started. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the colonel, he just wanted to make certain that the man was firing on all cylinders since he would soon be responsible for making sure Rodney’s brain didn’t leak out of his ears. Besides, McKay knew very well that all he would get from the colonel was his usual ‘I’m fine’ mantra if Carson was present.
As he approached Sheppard’s bed, Rodney thought maybe he should’ve brought Beckett along after all. His confidence regarding this evening’s activities was sinking rapidly into the yellow-more of a yellow-orange, really, not a cheerful canary yellow-and Rodney turned around and hurried toward Beckett’s office. The doctor looked up from his computer when McKay entered, but never had the chance to speak before the scientist started griping, “Okay, I’m going to assume that since you’re generally pretty good at the voodoo-mastery and such that you actually saw Sheppard before you called me. Based on that assumption, I have to ask why you think he’s going to be able to do any good at a mind-meld when he’s moaning and groaning in his sleep like his migraine’s come back to haunt him and brought its friends agony and torment along for the ride.”
“What?”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Oh for the love of…stop asking that! You heard me the first time. What’s wrong with Sheppard?”
Beckett frowned, pushing away from his desk and heading for the door even as he answered the scientist, “I wasn’t aware that anything serious was wrong. Anything new, that is.” The doctor chose to reserve further judgment until they reached the man in question. He found John much as Rodney had said, tossing and turning in his sleep, a grunt or whimper escaping now and again. “Bugger, why can’t he just listen ta me for once?” Carson muttered, shaking Sheppard’s shoulder gently. “Colonel? I need ya ta wake up now, lad.”
Sheppard mumbled something unintelligible and shifted again, but Carson tightened his grip slightly and the resistance was enough to bring John around with a start. “Craaap,” he groaned, his jaw clenched as he rode out the wave of pain the sudden move had caused.
“The suggestion ta tell one of us if ya were hurting wasn’t made for fun, Colonel.” Though his tone was exasperated, Beckett’s eyes were sympathetic.
John shrugged slightly, “I fell asleep and didn’t notice anything was wrong until now.” Just then, he noticed that Beckett wasn’t alone. “Hey, Rodney. Guess it’s time to get this show on the road, huh?”
“Maybe in a bit. Let’s see how you’re doing first.” Carson slipped on his stethoscope and began his usual routine as Sheppard looked to McKay for backup. McKay just crossed his arms and glared, which could’ve meant just about anything, but didn’t have much chance of indicating the scientist was going to plead John’s case to Carson.
Returning Rodney’s glare, just because he was in a serious mood to snipe at someone, John impatiently waited while Carson finished his exam. “Well?” he asked as the doctor was making notes on his chart.
“Your heart rate and respiration are quicker than normal, clear indicators that you’re in pain even if ya are too bloody stubborn ta admit it.” Carson cast a disapproving look his direction, then continued noting.
John sighed, though what he really wanted to do was punch something. Damn, but he was irritable. The pain was really beginning to wear on him. “I’m not trying to be difficult, Doc. Yes, I’m stiff and achy and feel like I should have about a hundred candles on my next birthday cake, but I’m not going to sit here and complain about it, and I’m definitely not going to delay getting this mind-meld crap settled just so I can take the good drugs and temporarily reduce the number of candles to a still-unacceptable seventy-two. You always say that to heal the symptoms you have to treat the cause. Well, we all know what the cause is here. Won’t shutting that thing down solve the problem?”
“Probably,” Carson allowed reluctantly. “As for the inflammation, I wasn’t able ta get a clear answer from the database. Making an educated guess based on the information contained there, your last scan, and the data Rodney has gathered, though, I’d say that the culprit is a sort of feedback from the device. The Ancients designed it ta work with one conscious and one unconscious person, presumably with some built-in mechanism ta dial back the strength of the mental connection as the latter was healed. You and Rodney, however, have both been conscious for the majority of the time you’ve been ‘connected’. Ta put it simply, it’s too much for the device ta handle, and when the two of ya disagree about somethin’ it puts even more stress on the connection, generating further information that the device doesn’t know how ta interpret, and the unfortunate result is the pain and headaches you’ve been experiencing, Colonel.”
Sheppard raised an eyebrow. “That’s a hell of an educated guess, Doc.”
“Yes, seriously, where did you come up with all of that? I mean, it would seem to make sense considering my data, but how did you manage to read my data? I’ve had my laptop since this morning, and none of the information has even been processed yet. It’s still all raw figures.”
“Ya may find it hard ta believe, Rodney, but I have worked with raw scientific data before, and I’ve also used enough Ancient medical equipment in the last couple of years ta make some fairly sound inferences based on their commonalities with your device.”
“Oh. Well, when you put it that way.”
The three men glanced amongst themselves for several seconds before Sheppard broke the cycle by dropping his eyes to his lap. “Guys, come on, all this back and forth is making me dizzy,” he looked sharply at Beckett, “figuratively speaking. Now tell me what I have to do to shut off that damn Ancient metal thing for good.”
“Without erasing random parts of my intellect,” added Rodney.
It was becoming very obvious to Carson that any further attempts at stalling would be met with annoyance at best. When Sheppard or McKay made up their minds about something it was difficult to convince them otherwise, but when both agreed it was nearly impossible. “Ya don’t need ta do a thing for the time being,” he told Sheppard. “Rodney, come with me and I’ll get ya some scrubs. I want ta give ya a quick once over and discuss some details before we get started. And you,” he pinned Sheppard with a look that promised the riot act plus possible acts of torture should he not heed the words, “will take the painkillers Megan brings ya and then rest until we’re ready, am I clear?”
Sheppard nodded in resignation. “You are. Thanks, Doc.”
On to Part 9