Fanfic From the Archive, December 17, 2014
Dug back in the archive to find this one. I remember the challenge. I was talking to a friend and we were discussing the cliche of amnesia stories and all the ones we'd read over the years that were... well not to our tastes. Lots of cliche. (Hollywood is SO guilty of it too!) So, she challenged me to write a bit more believable one. Amnesia is tricky. Does it happen? Yes, but typically not on the simple scope that Hollywood and TV portrays it. This was a challenge. LOL. Yes, I admit I did tie it up with a neat bow but I really wanted to try to tell the process, the experiences in a story that was a bit more believable.
Anyway, it was an interesting challenge to write... and it got LONG! LOL
There are some references to Darkness Runs Deep, but you don’t have to have read it to read this. Some references to John’s tour in Antarctica too. In fact, I think the amount of writing about that in this story was one of the driving forces behind me attempting to write his backstory. Yeah… still working on that… ;)
Story: Shattered
Word Count: ~38K
Genre: Gen, Whump, HC
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett, Elizabeth Weir, others.
Warnings: Whump and HC, some violence
Summary: A close shave with death leaves John Sheppard searching for answers. Written in August, 2007
Shattered
The soft caress of darkness withdrew. Faintly, he became aware of the murmur of voices; the hum of life around him. He swallowed hard against a painfully dry throat and managed a quiet moan. The scuffle of feet to his left gave him something to focus his slowly recovering attention on and he carefully peeled open his eyes. The face that met his gaze held an odd expression of worry mixed with relief. Dark curls brushed her shoulders and her green eyes were intent on his.
He blinked sluggishly and stared hard at her. Deep inside, a nagging whisper told him he should know her and her expression spoke of a closeness; intimate in its familiarity. His head was groggy and it hurt. Any sort of words escaped him.
“John? Just relax. You’re in the infirmary. Carson’s on his way.”
He blinked again; a slow, languid action and inhaled deeply.
“John?” The worry in her expression intensified with the wrinkle that formed on her brow. “John, can you understand me?”
He didn’t know where his voice was, so he settled for a slight nod, his head brushing against his pillow.
A small smile creased her face and drove back the worry lines. “Okay. That’s good. Can’t expect you to be ready to jump out of bed, at least not yet.”
A warm softness covered his hand and he slowly looked down, to find hers gripping his knuckles. He swallowed hard, his scattered thoughts starting to come together. It was there again, that intimacy, that closeness... something that heralded a friendship that was so much more than what he remembered... what he knew. He tensed, feeling painfully uncomfortable as his gaze left her hand and found her face.
He watched her stiffen in reaction to what he knew she saw, but he couldn’t find the words or his voice to say anything. He was uncomfortable... confused... maybe even a little scared, and he let his eyes tell her, somehow knowing she was astute in her ability to silently observe. The warmth of her hand was replaced by cool air as she withdrew her grasp.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice laced with confusion.
John felt his brow wrinkle as a wave of guilt passed over him. He glanced away for a minute before looking back at her his gaze questioning.
She smiled slightly. “It’s okay, John, you’ve been through a lot. Don’t worry about anything right now, except getting better.”
It was at that point he realized his head felt strange... constricted. But, he didn’t have a chance to think more on it before movement caught his attention. A kind looking man in a white doctor’s coat walked towards his bed. Behind him, were a pretty brunette woman, a huge, imposing man and another average sized man. They all seemed concerned; and looked at him with expressions that spoke the same familiarity as the woman’s.
John felt like he wanted to sink into his bed and escape. Confusion swarmed over him and with it, fear. The place was strange, the people were strange; nothing was recognizable and it scared the hell out of him. He tensed, trying to keep rein on his fear, but somehow, they knew.
The kind looking man stopped next to his bed and looked up at a monitor for a moment, before smiling at him in a reassuring way. “Aye, easy son,” the man soothed in an accented voice, “you’re all right.”
John opened his mouth, tried to say something, but his actions were wordless and it only added to his disoriented fear. He felt a light sweat break out on his forehead as he pulled in a ragged breath.
“Carson? What is it?”
The average sized man’s voice was taunt... worried. Somehow, John knew it was unusual.
Carson turned and looked back. “All of ye need to leave.”
“Carson...” the dark haired woman started.
“Now, Elizabeth,” Carson’s voice was gentle but firm. I’ll come talk to ye in a bit.”
John’s looked at her and he saw her hesitation, but after a moment she nodded slightly and turned to the others. His gaze followed hers.
The brunette smiled slightly, her expression full of compassion and caring but he found no comfort from it. The large man’s face was an unreadable mask and the other man looked clearly uncomfortable. They all followed the woman… Elizabeth, leaving him alone with… Carson?
Confusion swarmed over John. He inhaled loudly through his nose once and then again, as he tried to rein in an instinctive, confused fear that pushed at his weak control. He stared the kind man… Carson… in the eyes and saw only understanding empathy.
Carson reached back, grabbed a stool and sat down next to the bed. He looked John over for a minute. Oddly, John felt a comfort from his presence, a trust that was inherent. He felt relief to be almost alone again, to not have so many gazes on him, expecting something that he couldn’t give. He took a deeper, slower breath as Carson once again looked at his face, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“John? Son, do ye remember me?” Carson asked quietly.
Confusion laced with apprehension once again flowed through John. He squeezed his eyes shut his face twisting into a grimace. A compassionate grip squeezed his shoulder and he opened his eyes in response, to find Carson staring intently at him.
“’Tis all right, lad. I suspected this might happen.”
As quickly as it found him, Carson’s hand left John’s shoulder. “Relax, John. Ye need your rest.”
John felt as tight as a bowstring ready to snap. His confusion ran deep and left fear in its wake. He pulled in a tense, loud breath, then another. Alone. He just needed to be alone. To figure out what was happening… to try and remember… his gaze followed Carson around the bed as he grabbed a syringe and pulled up some medication.
Carson held the syringe close to the IV port and smiled down at John. “It’ll help you sleep. Right now that’s what ye need.” His smiled deepened into a gentle, reassuring one. “I know you’re confused right now.” His hand made no move towards the IV and his gaze never left John’s. “Trust me. I want to help you. Will ye let me?”
John couldn’t tear his eyes from Carson’s. Somewhere, deep inside him a voice told him to listen; told him to trust Carson… told him it’d be okay. Silently… slowly, John nodded.
Carson nodded once and turned back to the IV where he quickly injected the medicine.
John never took his eyes from the gentle doctor as a warm, relaxing feeling swept through him, driving away his fear and anxiety and leaving only a comfortable drowsiness behind. His eyelids felt heavy and longed to close. The last thing John saw, was Carson’s kind face staring back at him.
“Sleep, son.”
Carson’s gentle voice lulled him and John succumbed.
-------------------------
Carson sighed quietly as he watched John’s eyes close and his body relax into the bed. He stood there for a minute, watching John’s sleeping form. For the past two weeks, while they’d all waited anxiously for John to awaken, so many scenarios had played over in Carson’s mind. He’d done every test he could but ultimately he knew the extent of John’s head injury could never be ascertained until the colonel woke up. And now that he had...
Carson shook his head. Uncertainty, fear and confusion had all been dominant in John’s face. Even without being able to speak, Carson knew the trauma his brain had experienced had lasting effects on him. How much, he didn’t know, not yet, but Carson was almost sure retrograde amnesia was a factor. What other motor or cognitive skills the colonel had lost still had to be determined.
Like a bad horror movie, flashbacks from two weeks ago raced across his mind. Teyla’s desperate hail that the colonel had been injured... Running through the gate to find her breathing for him, her technique keeping him alive while Ronon and even Rodney stood guard... The colonel motionless... limp on a fast moving gurney, his head wrapped in a blood soaked field bandage and c-spine immobilized and secured to a backboard. His pale face... The ambu bag the only thing keeping him breathing as they burst into the infirmary...
Carson shook off the memories and watched John a moment longer. It'd been ten days before they had been able to wean John off the ventilator and extubate him, allowing the colonel to breathe on his own. Close shave with death didn't even begin to explain what he had experienced. Satisfied his patient was resting quietly for now, Carson slowly pulled back the privacy curtain and walked out into the infirmary. He shut the curtain behind him and waved his medic, Carolyn Lansing, over to him. “Carolyn, love, I want one person on days and one on nights assigned to Colonel Sheppard. I don’t want a parade of different people tending to him. He needs some consistency right now.”
Carolyn nodded silently. “Is he okay, Carson?”
Carson pursed his lips. “Don’t know yet. At the least it appears he has memory loss.”
Carolyn nodded again. “I’ll see to it.”
Carson left her and walked towards Elizabeth and the others who waited not so patiently on the far side of the infirmary. His smile was thin... strained as he walked up to them.
“Carson?” Elizabeth, as usual, was the first to speak.
“I gave him something to help him sleep; it’s the best thing right now,” Carson responded. “He’ll be out for a few hours at least, probably longer.”
Elizabeth nodded slightly. “How is he?”
Carson glanced away for a moment before looking back at her. “It’s hard to tell yet. But, he seemed reasonably aware for someone in his condition. Right now, I’m taking that as a good sign. We’ll know more once he’s had some time to get a little stronger.”
“He did not speak,” Teyla interjected. “But, I believe he wanted to.” Her voice was worried.
Carson nodded. “Aye, that’s not uncommon. Coma patients often can’t speak when they first wake. The speech center can take a wee bit to recover.”
“He seemed... lost,” Elizabeth interrupted quietly. Her brows furrowed at him. “Carson, he looked scared.” Her voice was slightly disbelieving.
Carson swallowed. “He was... or rather he is. He’s confused too and probably a bit anxious. I won’t know for sure until I can test him further, but I suspect he’s suffering from retrograde amnesia.”
“Oh my god,” Rodney interjected, “he doesn’t know who we are, does he?”
“No, Rodney, he doesn’t. “Carson affirmed. “I asked him. He doesn’t remember any of us.”
“How did that happen?” Ronon’s voice was disbelieving in its intensity.
“Retrograde amnesia can be a side effect of brain trauma like the colonel experienced,” Carson sighed. “Often large parts of their memory are missing. As I said, I won’t know the extent until I can test him further.”
“That’s why,” Elizabeth whispered. When Carson looked at her she continued. “I... I touched his hand when he first woke It seemed to make him uncomfortable.”
“Aye, it would,” Carson nodded. “Amnesia patients often have a hard time dealing with people that were once close to them. They can’t remember so to them it’s like a perfect stranger or a barely known acquaintance walking up and hugging them or doing anything personal. It’s a very uncomfortable situation for them.” Carson smiled thinly at her. “And for you. You can’t take it personally, Elizabeth.”
She smiled back. “No. No I don’t. It makes perfect sense.”
Carson sighed loudly. “He’s going to be out for quite a while. None of you are doing any good here.”
“Is that your not so subtle way of telling us to leave?” Rodney answered, his voice holding a slight note of familiar sarcasm; something they hadn’t heard much of from him since the T’eshii grenade nearly killed John.
“Aye,” Carson responded directly. “I know for a fact none of you have been getting enough sleep. I’m ordering you all to eat and rest.”
It was Elizabeth that acquiesced first. “Point taken. Keep us posted.” She squeezed his forearm gently.
“I will. Off you go.” Carson stood his ground as the four of them silently left the infirmary. As the door closed behind them, he turned and walked back to John’s private corner. Carefully pulling back the curtain, Carson walked into the secluded area and pulled it shut behind him. He walked around the bed to the stool, still sitting next to John and sat down. He folded his hands on his lap and stared at the colonel. It was a long time before he left.
-----------------------------
He felt better this time. As unconsciousness faded, his head felt clearer, his body stronger. John slowly opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. He winced slightly. His whole body felt sore, like he’d gone ten rounds with Holyfield, but his head, that was the worst. He closed his eyes, wondering if he could chase away the little man with the big sledgehammer that was pounding his skull. He groaned quietly and immediately heard footsteps approach his bed.
“Colonel Sheppard?”
Reluctant to open his eyes, John’s brows still furrowed in confusion. Colonel?
He resigned himself to the throbbing in his head and slowly opened his eyes, staring at the warm smiling face of a woman; apparently on the medical staff. He squinted. Something tugged at his mind. He felt like he knew her and yet she was a stranger to him, both at the same time. He swallowed hard. “I...” his cracked voice trailed off. What was he going to say? I don’t know you but then again I do? His confusion must’ve been apparent on his face, because her smile turned understanding.
“It’s all right, Colonel. I’m Carolyn. Carolyn Lansing.”
John managed a half smile. “Nice to meet you,” he whispered. “And it’s Major... not Colonel,” he corrected lightly. His smile faded as a barely concealed look of confusion passed over her face before she quickly hid it under another smile.
“Of course. I’m sorry.” She looked up at the monitor over his head for a moment, before she gently took his wrist and measured his pulse rate. She stared at her watch but still made idle conversation. “You’re stronger today. Are you in any pain?”
John hesitated, before smiling slightly. “Pretty sore, but I’m all right.”
She stared at him for a moment, before nodding and setting his arm down gently on the bed. “How does your bandage feel?”
Her words alerted his senses and he immediately became aware of a tight wrap around his head. His gaze narrowed slightly. “Bandage?” He lifted a shaking hand to his head, his touch encountering thick gauze. He let his arm drop. “What happened?”
Her ever present small smile faded slightly. “I’ll let Dr. Beckett talk to you about that.”
Suddenly, as if the pieces of a giant puzzle were falling together, John made the connection. His head... his memory... “It’s why I can’t remember...” his voice trailed off as the worry within him was replaced by fear. His ragged breath hissed through his clenched teeth as he struggled to stay calm. A warm squeeze on his arm grabbed his attention. He looked up and into the strongly reassuring expression on Carolyn’s face. The compassion he felt from her touch overpowered any discomfort he had from someone he felt he barely knew touching him in such a personal way.
“John,” she said quietly, “you’re going to be fine. We’re all going to help you.”
“Carolyn?” John panted slightly, “What happened to me?”
She sighed quietly. “You were in an accident. I’m sorry, John, but I can’t tell you anything more until Dr. Beckett has had a chance to talk to you. But,” she squeezed his arm again, “you’re going to be okay.”
John looked away from her for a moment before nodding slightly. Her hand left his arm.
“Just relax. I’m going to get Dr. Beckett, then we’ll take a look at your bandage, okay?”
His mind still reeling, John managed a small whisper. “okay.” He watched her disappear behind the privacy curtain before his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The architecture looked unlike anything he’d ever seen and did nothing to comfort him. Where the hell am I? What happened? He forced his pounding head to think, to go back... to find the last thing he remembered before waking up here.
“Request permission to lead a search team,” John stared hard at his CO, his determination unwavering.
Colonel Hays sighed. “John, the conditions are rapidly deteriorating. The temperature out there alone makes it questionable they’re even alive. On top of that, you’ve got blinding snow and crosswinds from hell. You won’t even be able to see the nose of your chopper, much less anything else.”
“With all due respect, sir, those men are out there in it,” John countered his voice deep with intensity, “we can’t just leave them, not if there’s a chance they’re alive.”
“John it’s the weather that brought Stiles team down in the first place and it’s only gotten worse. I don’t need two lost crews!” Hays voice raised slightly in frustration.
John pulled in a deep breath as he scrutinized his CO. The frustration at not being able to do anything shone clearly on the colonel’s face, and John knew, without a doubt, Hays wanted nothing more then to authorize the rescue mission and find those men, come hell, high water or blinding blizzards. Hays was a good soldier; one John could relate to and in a moment of black cynicism John wondered, if there were CO’s out there he could get along with, why did the brass who condemned him have to be such pricks... John pulled in a loud, deep breath. “I’m volunteering,” he said quietly. “I know the risks. I’m not asking anyone to go with me.”
“You don’t have to ask,” a voice, heavy with a deep southern drawl interrupted from behind John. “You’ll need a medic.”
John couldn’t quite stifle a smile as he turned and looked directly at Lieutenant Edwards. The Mississippi native smiled mischievously back at him.
A deep, almost humored sigh grabbed John’s attention and he looked back to Hays.
“Oh hell,” Hays muttered. “You’re two peas in a pod. How I ever had the bad luck to end up with both of you in my command...” Hays sighed again and stared hard at John. “Permission granted.” He raised his hand, stopping John before he could turn away. “On one condition. You two get your asses back here in one piece. That’s an order.”
John smiled slightly. “Yes, sir, and we’ll bring Stiles and his guys back with us.”
Hays nodded once. “Go.”
John blinked hard as the memory faded. His gaze again focused on the ceiling above him, the memory doing nothing to clear his confusion. This wasn’t McMurdo... He turned his head slightly as the curtain opened and Carolyn returned, Carson right behind her.
“Colonel? Feeling better?” Carson asked as he stopped at the foot of John’s bed and glanced at his chart.
John’s brows furrowed. Colonel again? “Compared to what?” he managed softly. A quiet sigh escaped him as Carson’s expression turned concerned. “Yeah,” he muttered. “And it’s major,” there was an edge to his voice, “not colonel,” he emphasized.
Carson set the chart on a nearby tray table and slowly walked up next to John’s bed. “What’s the last thing you remember, son?”
John swallowed hard. “Colonel Hays gave Edwards and me a go to try and find Stiles’ team.” Even as the words left his mouth, John somehow felt they were wrong. “Did we crash?” he asked quietly. His eyes roved around the room for a minute. “This isn’t McMurdo...” his voice trailed off and he looked back at Carson who shook his head slightly.
“No, it isn’t,” Carson answered quietly. He took a step closer to the bed, his gaze demanding John’s attention. “You’re Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard; commanding officer of the Atlantis expedition.”
“Atlantis,” John breathed, “Colonel?” He took one ragged breath, than another. “What the hell?”
Carson eased himself onto the edge of John’s bed. “It’s all right. I expected you to be confused. You suffered a head injury, Colonel. Depressed skull fracture complicated by a subdural hematoma. I won’t lie to ye, you’re lucky to be alive.”
John’s thoughts raced his rapid breathing matching speed. “Did I crash?” he repeated softly, somehow knowing what the answer would be.
Carson shook his head. “No. ye, didn’t crash, Colonel.” He smiled thinly and put a warm hand on John’s shoulder. “I wasn’t sure the extent of brain damage before you woke up, but, you’re alert and responsive. This conversation is a very good sign that it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”
“Glad this conversation is reassuring to one of us,” John answered, not able to keep the cynicism from his voice.
Carson pursed his lips. “I know this is a lot for you to take in at once, son, and it has to be very frustrating, but we’re going to help ye through this. You’re suffering from retrograde amnesia, not overly common in trauma like this, but not unheard of.” He sighed. “I expect memories will start coming back to you and we’ll help you with that too, but ye have to be patient; give yourself time to heal.”
John swallowed, his mind numb with shock as he tried to process everything Carson said to him. Finally, he just nodded silently. Apparently, that was good enough for Carson who stood up.
“I want to take a look at that hard head of yours now, Colonel,” Carson teased lightly. “I need you to sit up, but I want you to do it slow and easy. Carolyn will help you. Take your time, there’s no rush.”
John turned his gaze to Carolyn and managed a feeble smile.
She returned the favor with a stronger more reassuring smile than his and extended her hand towards him.
John took her hand and let her support and help him as he slowly sat up. He felt as weak as a newborn kitten and just about as helpless, but the calm look on Carolyn’s face reassured him that he must be doing okay. Abruptly, his world tilted and John squeezed his eyes shut against the pounding in his head and breathed through the sudden nausea that plagued him. He felt Carolyn’s grip tighten and Carson’s strong hand on his back.
“Easy son,” Carson’s voice was quiet. “I don’t expect your head’s going to be too fond of ye moving for quite a while yet.”
A light sheen of sweat broke out on his brow as he took another ragged breath and swallowed hard, trying to keep his rebellious stomach under control.
“Carson? He’s pretty pale.”
Carolyn’s voice sounded distant to John as he held tight to her arm and even tighter to his control.
“Aye,” Carson agreed, “I got him. Grab a basin.”
“No,” John managed in a choked voice. “’m ok...”
“All right,” Carson answered. “I’ll make this as fast as possible.”
John felt the bandages on his head move before slowly lifting away. He clung tight to Carolyn’s hand and arm using it to stay grounded and to stave off the vertigo that plagued him. He hissed in pain as something pushed on the right side of his skull.
“Sorry,” Carson muttered, “looking better. We’ll get another pass with the Ancient scanner, an MRI and set of X-rays tomorrow.”
John could feel the shaking in his weak body as it neared the end of its limited endurance. As Carson’s hands left his head, he couldn’t hold it up and his head gently fell forward to come to rest on Carolyn’s shoulder. For a moment, he was motionless before he realized he was leaning heavily on the medic. He tried to lift his head. “Sorry...” his voice trailed off as he felt Carolyn’s hand tighten around his.
“Its okay, we’re almost done,” she answered gently.
“Aye son, almost,” Carson reaffirmed as his hand slowly pushed up on John’s forehead. “Just let me get ye re-bandaged here...”
John did his best to hold his head up but he could feel the muscles in his neck shaking with exhaustion and a moment of relief washed over him as Carson finished. He felt Carson’s hand on the back of his head, supporting him.
“All right. Lay down, nice and slow now. Let Carolyn help you.”
John eased himself back, letting his head settle into Carson’s hand and using Carolyn’s grip to slowly lay down. His head met the soft pillow and he felt Carson pull his hand free as Carolyn laid his arm close to his body.
“Get some rest, Colonel,” Carson urged quietly. “We’ll talk more later.”
John fought his heavy eyelids. He had so many questions, so much he needed to think about, but his worn out mind and body won over. This time, he needed no drugs as his eyelids fell shut and he succumbed to exhaustion.
----------------------------------
Elizabeth watched as Ronon once again paced past her. She knew it had only been a few minutes since Carson had disappeared behind the privacy curtain to check John, but it’d seemed like an eternity. She could still see the haunted and lost look in John’s eyes when he’d seen her; void of any recognition or the familiarity she’d come to enjoy. The fear she saw in his features stoked a fear within her as well. She’d rarely seen him scared, truly scared.
She sighed quietly as Ronon’s form passed her again, but decided against saying anything. Rodney, however had no such reservations.
“You’re wearing a track in the floor, Conan,” Rodney snapped. “Want to knock it off?”
Wordlessly, Ronon turned and stalked over to Rodney. He stood close, his form dwarfing the scientist. His dark eyes intense, Ronon stared down at Rodney.
“Of course,” Rodney stammered, “that’s really only a request...” his voice trailed off as Teyla pulled gently but insistently on Ronon’s arm.
“Ronon,” Teyla said quietly.
Elizabeth watched a spark of emotion, mostly frustration, race across Ronon’s face before he buried it under a mask and stepped back. Fueled by concern, tempers were definitely short all around, including hers which she tried to bury under professionalism. “We don’t need any more casualties,” she warned quietly, her green eyes locking on Ronon’s strong brown ones before she sent the same warning glare at Rodney. Her gaze softened as she caught sight of Carson emerging from behind the privacy curtain concealing John’s bed. Elizabeth pushed away from the pillar she leaned on and was the first one to reach Carson. “How is he?”
Carson sighed. “Sleeping again. Truthfully, it’s the best for him.” He waved towards the far side of the infirmary. “Come with me.” Carson headed for a large diagnostic display.
Elizabeth stopped slightly to the left of the display as the others gathered close to her. She bit her lip in apprehension as Carson typed a couple keys before a three dimensional, graphical display of the brain came up on the screen. She stared at it a moment before sighing quietly. “Carson, how bad is it?”
Carson gave her a thin smile. “Not as bad as it could’ve been, but there is damage.”
“How bad?” Rodney interjected.
“Just hold on a minute, “Carson raised his hand. “Let me explain what is going on.” He pointed at the screen. “The Colonel’s depressed skull fracture and subsequent subdural hematoma, occurred here, about two inches above and about an inch in front of his ear.” He ran his finger along a dark line in the image. “This ‘line’ for lack of better description, marks the separation between the temporal and parietal lobes of the brain. Behind that is the hippocampus.”
“Carson, enough with brain anatomy 101!” Rodney snapped. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Rodney,” Elizabeth admonished quietly.
“I’m getting to that, Rodney,” Carson patiently answered. “Based on the Colonel’s MRI the trauma to his brain occurred in this area,” his finger traced a circle that encompassed parts of both lobes. “The temporal lobe trauma, along with what I suspect is trauma to the hippocampus is causing his retrograde amnesia. The MRI shows evidence of trauma to this small area of the parietal lobe but I haven’t been able to ascertain if that has had any lasting effect on him, not yet. As for what other effects his injuries have had on him, I don’t know yet. I’ll be running several standard tests, targeting the function of each of these lobes, to determine the extent of damage to his brain.”
“In other words, you still don’t know,” Rodney replied coldly.
“No, I don’t and probably won’t have a complete analysis for a week or so. Symptoms he displays now could fade as areas of his brain recover, others may not. It’s just too early to tell.”
“Carson, what sort of... impediments are we talking about?” Part of Elizabeth didn’t want to ask, but the other part of her wanted to be prepared for what may be coming.
Carson’s loud sigh was accompanied by a slow shake to his head. “There’s a wide range of potential problems, some minor, some very severe and could affect him the rest of his life.” He pointed at the screen again. “The parietal lobe is crucial to integrating sensory information from the rest of the body as well as controlling fine motor skills such as writing. It’s also vital to spatial orientation. I can rule out damage to speech and word association as he’s coherent and making sense, but beyond that, I’m not sure. Damage to the hippocampus effects memory, which we’ve already seen, as well as damage to the temporal lobe,” his hand move down slightly on the display, “which could cause a variety of behavioral issues.” Carson turned around, crossed his arms and looked directly at Elizabeth. “He’s confused and even a wee bit scared right now and that’s on top of just trying to recover from the physical trauma his body’s experienced. I want to give him some time before I test him too much or throw too much at him.”
“Can we help?” Teyla asked quietly. “Perhaps we can be there for him as support?”
Carson smiled slightly at her. “Aye, but remember, lass, he doesn’t remember any of you. You have to treat him accordingly, but yes, he could use friends.”
“He’ll have them,” Ronon interjected.
Elizabeth nodded her agreement and took a silent moment to process everything Carson had said. “We know for sure he’s suffering from retrograde amnesia, do you know the last thing he remembers?”
Carson leaned wearily back against the table holding the display screen and nodded. “Aye. Right now, the last thing he remembers is a rescue mission in Antarctica. Something about a crew that went down in a storm and he and one other officer went after them.” Carson looked away for a moment. “When he woke, he corrected both Carolyn and I on his rank, insisting he was a Major.”
“Oh my god,” Elizabeth muttered as she looked away.
“Carson, his tour in Antarctica was three years ago!” Rodney answered.
“Aye,” Carson agreed, “that it is. With some help we should be able to improve on that, hopefully by a significant amount. It depends on the extent of damage.”
“How much?” Elizabeth knew she was pressing Carson for a defined answer when he probably didn’t have one.
Carson shook his head. “Ideally? Everything but the immediate memories surrounding the accident. He’ll probably never regain those. Realistically? I’m hoping he’ll eventually recover most of the last three years, but he’ll probably have holes, things he won’t remember. If the damage to the temporal lobe and especially the hippocampus is bad enough, he may not even recover that. Right now, I just don’t know.”
“What about the scanner?” Rodney suddenly interjected.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him in confusion. “What are you talking about, Rodney?”
“Oh no,” Carson shook his head. “No way.”
“Gentlemen,” Elizabeth chastised. “Care to inform the rest of us about this scanner?”
“The Ancient’s scanner,” Rodney immediately responded. “We’re almost positive that it also has healing elements to it; the ability to heal complex injuries that it scans in the body. But, we’ve never been able to figure out how it works.”
“You’ve never taken the time to really look into it, Rodney,” Carson rebutted.
“Yes, yes!” Rodney snapped back. “I’ve been kind of busy with, oh I don’t know, power? ZedPM’s? Wraith attacks and shields?” Rodney waved his hand furiously. “The point is, the thing has the ability to heal way above our current technology. We just haven’t tested it yet.”
“Aye!” Carson interjected, “and I’m not about to test the bloody thing on the Colonel’s brain!”
“I think you’re a little ahead of yourself, Rodney,” Elizabeth raised her hand to stop Rodney’s protest. “Right now, we don’t know for sure what John’s injuries are. If you don’t know how to use it, we’re not testing it on him.”
“I wasn’t suggesting a blind test without knowing what the hell we’re doing,” Rodney objected. “I’m just saying, I think I can figure it out, and it might help.”
“Researching it won’t hurt anything,” Carson nodded, “but you’re going to have to do a fair bit of convincing and proving for me to authorize it.”
Elizabeth’s attention was diverted by Ronon moving. “I’m leaving all of this to you. Gonna go sit with him for a while.” Without another word, he turned and left the rest of them.
“Ronon has a good idea,” Teyla started to follow only to be stopped by Carson’s voice.
“No, love, sorry,” he smiled apologetically, “only one at a time, too many strange faces are too overwhelming. We need to take this at his pace.”
Teyla smiled understandingly. “Of course.”
Carson pushed away from the table and stood straight. “I wish I could tell ye more right now, but I just don’t have the answers yet.”
Elizabeth nodded silently, keeping a firm rein on her emotions. “Keep me posted.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and briskly left the infirmary.
As she walked down the long corridors of Atlantis, her mind raced. Memory loss... three years of memory loss. My god, he doesn’t remember anything about Atlantis, the Wraith, his job... his friends. Carson’s words rang in her head. Spatial orientation, sensory loss, loss of fine motor skills, permanent behavior issues... she swallowed hard against a lump that pushed in her throat and made a beeline for the nearest outdoor balcony she could find. Was he even John Sheppard anymore?
Elizabeth stepped through a set of large doors, and scanned the spacious balcony a sense of irony sweeping over her. Through some twist of fate, she’d ended up on the very same balcony they’d had their first Atlantis celebration on, shortly after rescuing Teyla and their people from the Wraith.
She slowly crossed the balcony to the very edge and rested her hands on the railing as memories came back to her... the very same memories John was now denied.
“Well, you are the ranking military officer now, or do you need to be reminded of that? We need to get back out there; do what we came to do.”
“You do realize I can get us into all sorts of trouble, right?”
Her grip on the railing tightened and she let the professional mask she’d clung to, fall. John had made good on his words, god, they all had made mistakes, not just him, but he’d also done so much for her, his team and the entire expedition. She closed her eyes, and prayed she’d have to endure John Sheppard’s “trouble” again.
---------------------------------------
“Get down!”
“Colonel!”
John’s eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply, his body tensing. For a moment, he felt dread and fear, before the pieces of what his mind was trying to remember disappeared.
“John.”
He turned his head slightly and looked into a set of gentle, brown eyes and he recognized the brunette woman as one of the people that had been there before. He felt a trickle of sweat on his forehead and she must’ve seen it for she looked away a moment and reached for something. When she looked back, she held her smile and wiped a cloth across his forehead. John swallowed hard and stared at her. His instincts told him he should know her, but his mind drew a blank. Uncomfortable and just a little scared, he pursed his lips and looked away. Her hand left his brow.
“I am Teyla,” she said gently. “It is all right that you do not recognize me. I am still your friend.”
Her soft, understanding words reassured him, if only slightly. He stared back at her. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Her smile was warm and compassionate. “Do not apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
One side of his mouth turned up slightly. “Thanks… Teyla.” He relaxed slightly. “Tell me about you.”
Teyla leaned back in her chair. “I am Athosian and a member of your team.” A look of respect crossed her face. “We have fought side by side many times.”
John sighed. Member of his team? Fought together? His brow wrinkled. That was important. He knew it signified a close bond; something only forged by braving life and death situations together. Yet, none of it was familiar. “Wish I remembered,” he commented quietly. His eyes met hers.
Teyla stared intently at him. “That will come, John. You must give yourself time to heal. Then you will remember.”
Her voice was confident and John let some of that reassure him.
She inhaled deeply. “Something disturbed your sleep,” she stated quietly, “do you wish to speak of it?”
Fleeting moments of danger, fear and dread passed through him. He swallowed against a lump in his throat. Whatever his mind couldn’t piece together felt personal; and he hesitated. She must’ve sensed his uncertainty.
“You do not have to speak of it, John.”
Her understanding tone quelled his unease and suddenly he felt comfortable with her… like he’d known her for a long time. Apparently, I have… John’s brows furrowed and he took a deep breath. “Not much to talk about. More of an impression than anything…” he closed his eyes. “Something… dangerous.” After a long moment, he sighed and opened his eyes. “It’s not there. I… I can’t remember.”
“Have patience, John,” Teyla counseled.
John arched a brow in dark cynicism. “That’s not one of my fortes,” he muttered. He looked at Teyla as she chuckled quietly.
“I know,” she affirmed.
Her light humor was contagious and, in spite of the situation, he smiled slightly. “You really do know me.” As quick as it came, his smile faded.
“Yes,” Teyla nodded, “I do.”
“Teyla?” he pursed his lips. “What…” John swallowed hard. “What happened? Were you there?” He thought he saw something resembling guilt fleet across her expression, but it was only for a moment before she buried it in an impassive mask.
“I was there,” she answered quietly. She looked away for a moment, before her gaze once more found his. “I cannot tell you, John, not yet. You must begin to remember on your own first.”
John bit back his frustration and just nodded slightly.
“I am sorry,” Teyla continued. “It is for the best.”
John softened his expression some. “Yeah.”
Abruptly, the privacy curtain was pulled back to reveal Carson’s smiling face. “I thought I heard voices in here. How are you feeling, Colonel?”
John found a small smile. “Little stronger.” He started pushing himself up to his elbows. “Can I…” his voice trailed off as a wave of vertigo stopped him dead to rights. He closed his eyes and slowly sank back to his pillow with a groan.
“Ach,” Carson walked up to his bed, “let that be a lesson to ye. Two days out of a coma with a head injury and you expect to dance the bloody jig.” He looked down at John and sighed. “You are not the best patient I’ve ever had, Colonel.”
John kept his eyes closed a moment longer, until he was sure the room had stopped spinning and the pain in his head had dulled back to a persistent throb. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at Carson. “I hate hospitals.”
Carson snorted quietly but said nothing. He gently placed a clipboard on John’s lap. “I have a little exercise for you if you’re up to it?”
John nodded slightly. “Yeah, what?”
Carson fished around in his pocket and pulled out a pen which he held in front of John. “Write your name for me.”
Slightly confused, John slowly reached up and took the pen. He glanced at Teyla, whose face was an unreadable mask, before looking down at the blank piece of paper. “Write my name? Why?” He arched a brow at Carson.
“Trust me, just do it,” Carson urged.
John’s other brow joined the first as he lifted the clipboard with his free hand but as he lifted the pen to the paper, he found himself staring blankly at it. He slowly started to write, but the scribbling mark he made in no way resembled a J. He sucked in a loud breath and dropped both the pen and the clipboard. “Crap,” he whispered. He closed his eyes, fear and confusion sweeping through him, only to be followed by embarrassment and shame. He felt the bed shift as Teyla sat down next to him and he felt Carson’s warm hand on his shoulder, but neither did anything to comfort him. “Doc…” he whispered.
“It’s all right son,” Carson said quietly. “This doesn’t surprise me.”
“Then you’re the only… one!” John managed through clenched teeth. “Shit, Doc, I can’t write!”
“John…” Teyla started, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with it.
“No, damn it! Don’t tell me to be patient and I’ll be fine.” John’s eyes snapped open. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m screwed up!”
“John.” Carson’s voice took on a stern note. “You took a major blow to the head. There were bound to be some… complications.” Carson’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “I know it’s not much comfort, lad, but this could’ve been worse… a lot worse.”
John pulled in one ragged breath, then another. “Sorry Doc,” He couldn’t quiet keep the sarcasm from his voice. “I’m not exactly comforted right now.”
Carson’s smile was grim. “No, I don’t expect you are. We’ll help you with this. The relearning rate of someone in your circumstance is very rapid. Take heart in that.”
John felt less than reassured by Carson’s words and was sure his expression showed it. “Yeah, right.” He felt the bed shift as Teyla abruptly stood.
“I… I have commitments,” she stammered slightly. “I will be back later, John.”
Before he could say a word, she whipped the curtain aside and left. He looked over at Carson his gaze narrowing at the sympathetic look on the doctor’s face. His gut instinct took over and John was sure, without a shadow of a doubt, there was something significant he couldn’t remember… and they weren’t telling him. Frustration wormed its way into his voice. “What the hell is going on?”
Carson’s expression turned hesitant as he continued to silently stare across the infirmary.
His frustration rising, John stared harder at Carson. “Doc.”
Carson sighed deeply before looking down at John. “I think the lass blames herself for what has happened to you, although it was not her fault.”
John’s mind raced, adrenaline pushing aside the throbbing pain. Fortifying his resolve, he let a tone of command enter his voice. “Tell me what happened.”
“John…” Carson started.
“No.” John decisively cut the doctor off. “I want to know what happened. Damn it, Carson, I need to know.” John’s breathing increased as his gaze bore a hole through the doctor.
Carson looked away for a moment and shook his head slightly before once more meeting John’s gaze. “Your team was ambushed off world. You were injured when you ran between Teyla and a grenade. You pushed her out of the way, but the force of the grenade blast knocked you down hard. Your head hit a rock and fractured your skull.” Carson paused.
John swallowed hard and took a moment to absorb what the doctor had told him. “Go on,” he insisted.
“You were nearly killed by the blow,” Carson continued quietly. “In fact, if it wasn’t for Teyla’s CPR, you would’ve been. She kept you alive until my team could get to you.”
John turned his head away from Carson and squeezed his eyes shut, the racing of his mind, doing nothing to help with his throbbing pain.
“So,” Carson added, “I suspect she feels guilty.”
“She shouldn’t,” John whispered. “I’d do that for anyone on my team and… she saved my life.”
“Aye,” Carson agreed, “but I suspect she needs some time to see that.”
John forced his eyes opened. “Who ambushed us?” His voice was deep and held a dangerous note. He looked back at Carson.
A touch of anger infused Carson’s normally kind expression. “A race known as the T’eshii.”
T’eshii… The word sparked an instantaneous and instinctive reaction in him. Flashes of pain, cruelty, hatred and terror shot through him and John inhaled deeply, the emotional response almost painful. His face contorted as he squeezed his eyes shut against the painful assault.
“Colonel? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Carson’s worried voice pulled John back to reality. He took one stuttering breath, than another as he tried to compose himself. He felt Carson’s hand on his wrist.
“Your heart is racing, Colonel. What’s wrong, lad? Talk to me.” Carson insisted.
John forced his eyes open, his gaze meeting Carson’s worried one. “I’m okay,” he tried to reassure the doctor. “I just…” His brows wrinkled as he tried to find the words to explain what he had just experienced. “I… I know the T’eshii, don’t I?”
Dark cynicism permeated Carson’s expression. “Aye, ye could say that. They captured you and held you hostage last year.”
John pushed at his memories, trying to get them to come together; to give him more than just an impression of pain and anger, but it was futile as even the emotions faded from his mind. “Tell me more,” he insisted, but Carson shook his head in response.
“No. You must remember on your own, John. We’ll help you, but we can’t tell you everything; that won’t help you at all. You have to try to remember, son, but you also have to give it time and go slow. Don’t push yourself too hard,” Carson pointed at him. “I mean it.” Carson stood. “That’s enough for now. Ye need to sleep. Can you go to sleep on your own, or do you need something to help?”
“Don’t want to sleep,” John muttered, his mind still occupied with everything he’d learned and experienced since he awoke. “Too much to think about.”
“I’ll take that as an affirmation of the latter option,” Carson answered matter-of-factly. “Besides, you’re as white as a sheet, lad. I don’t suspect your head is feeling all that good.” Carson walked around his bed and grabbed a bottle of medication. “Sleep is the best thing for you right now.” He looked down at John, his expression imploring. “Please.”
After a moment, John nodded slightly. “I do feel like crap,” he admitted. He watched as Carson injected a syringe of medication into his IV. Seconds later, the familiar warm feeling flowed through him and succumbed to it.
--------------------------------
Ronon stopped in the doorway to the gym, crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame, the sight meeting his gaze not surprising him in the least. Across the room, Teyla was invoking a considerable amount of abuse with Bantos sticks on a practice dummy.
His gaze narrowed as he noted the sweat on her skin and the slight waver of fatigue that weakened each blow. Imperceptible to most people, Ronon still saw the hints of exhaustion as she continued her relentless assault. He pushed himself away from the doorframe and slowly walked across the gym. He grabbed a set of Bantos sticks and, giving her wide berth, walked around Teyla until he was in the line of sight for her peripheral vision. He waited as she finished a set of maneuvers, before she stopped and looked at him, her chest heaving with each fast breath.
Ronon raised his sticks. “Spar?”
She arched a cold eyebrow at him. “I do not wish to talk.”
“I didn’t say talk. I said spar.” Ronon answered. He held his sticks in a defensive position as she turned to face him.
“Very well.”
Ronon watched her lithe movements as she circled left, countering his right hand circling. He saw her stomach tense an instant before she attacked him. He deflected each of her blows, and sent a few back at her, nodding to himself in approval as she repelled them before they both stepped back, conceding a draw on the sortie.
Again, he watched her. He’d spent enough time sparring with her to get past the fact that not only was she about as good of a fighter as him, but she was also female. It’d never bothered him, he’d met enough races in the galaxy where women warriors were just as common as men, but it had taken a little getting used to as Satedan women rarely pursued the warrior’s way of life. He abruptly refocused his attention as she again attacked him, her attack furious before she stepped back and circled again.
Ronon opted to stay on the defensive. This wasn’t a spar to hone skills, this was something she needed, to purge some unwarranted guilt she carried… and he knew exactly what for.
“How did you find me?” She asked as she continued circling him.
“Went to the infirmary,” Ronon answered. “Talked to Beckett. Figured you’d be here.”
Tension stiffened her body right before she attacked, and Ronon could see it in her taut blows; each lacking the graceful aptitude he’d come to know. He parried, twisted and landed a light tap to her upper arm before dancing back away from her. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Teyla dropped her arms and glared at him. “Do not attempt to placate me. I should have seen it coming.”
“No,” Ronon hardened his tone. “You shouldn’t have.”
She waved a stick absently. “I have told you. I do not wish to talk.”
He twirled one stick in his hand and stared hard at her. “Fine. Don’t talk. Just listen. It was an ambush. No one saw it coming.”
“Colonel Sheppard saw it early enough to…” her voice trailed off. “I do not wish to speak,” she whispered. Her shoulders sagged and her defenses fell.
Ronon felt a twinge of sympathy as he watched the stoic warrior within Teyla, battle with the human side of her. He put both his sticks in one hand and walked over to her. Settling a strong grip on her shoulder, he hunched slightly and cocked his head, making eye contact with her. “You can’t let this eat you, Teyla,” he insisted softly. “I know you would’ve done the same for him, we all would. That’s because we’re a team.” He tightened his grip. “You have to let it go.” Without another word, Ronon stepped back and left her standing there. He knew there was nothing else he could say to convince her and he knew if he was in her situation, he’d want to be alone. Returning the sticks to the equipment bin, Ronon silently left the gym.
------------------------------------
On to Part 2!
Anyway, it was an interesting challenge to write... and it got LONG! LOL
There are some references to Darkness Runs Deep, but you don’t have to have read it to read this. Some references to John’s tour in Antarctica too. In fact, I think the amount of writing about that in this story was one of the driving forces behind me attempting to write his backstory. Yeah… still working on that… ;)
Story: Shattered
Word Count: ~38K
Genre: Gen, Whump, HC
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett, Elizabeth Weir, others.
Warnings: Whump and HC, some violence
Summary: A close shave with death leaves John Sheppard searching for answers. Written in August, 2007
Shattered
The soft caress of darkness withdrew. Faintly, he became aware of the murmur of voices; the hum of life around him. He swallowed hard against a painfully dry throat and managed a quiet moan. The scuffle of feet to his left gave him something to focus his slowly recovering attention on and he carefully peeled open his eyes. The face that met his gaze held an odd expression of worry mixed with relief. Dark curls brushed her shoulders and her green eyes were intent on his.
He blinked sluggishly and stared hard at her. Deep inside, a nagging whisper told him he should know her and her expression spoke of a closeness; intimate in its familiarity. His head was groggy and it hurt. Any sort of words escaped him.
“John? Just relax. You’re in the infirmary. Carson’s on his way.”
He blinked again; a slow, languid action and inhaled deeply.
“John?” The worry in her expression intensified with the wrinkle that formed on her brow. “John, can you understand me?”
He didn’t know where his voice was, so he settled for a slight nod, his head brushing against his pillow.
A small smile creased her face and drove back the worry lines. “Okay. That’s good. Can’t expect you to be ready to jump out of bed, at least not yet.”
A warm softness covered his hand and he slowly looked down, to find hers gripping his knuckles. He swallowed hard, his scattered thoughts starting to come together. It was there again, that intimacy, that closeness... something that heralded a friendship that was so much more than what he remembered... what he knew. He tensed, feeling painfully uncomfortable as his gaze left her hand and found her face.
He watched her stiffen in reaction to what he knew she saw, but he couldn’t find the words or his voice to say anything. He was uncomfortable... confused... maybe even a little scared, and he let his eyes tell her, somehow knowing she was astute in her ability to silently observe. The warmth of her hand was replaced by cool air as she withdrew her grasp.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice laced with confusion.
John felt his brow wrinkle as a wave of guilt passed over him. He glanced away for a minute before looking back at her his gaze questioning.
She smiled slightly. “It’s okay, John, you’ve been through a lot. Don’t worry about anything right now, except getting better.”
It was at that point he realized his head felt strange... constricted. But, he didn’t have a chance to think more on it before movement caught his attention. A kind looking man in a white doctor’s coat walked towards his bed. Behind him, were a pretty brunette woman, a huge, imposing man and another average sized man. They all seemed concerned; and looked at him with expressions that spoke the same familiarity as the woman’s.
John felt like he wanted to sink into his bed and escape. Confusion swarmed over him and with it, fear. The place was strange, the people were strange; nothing was recognizable and it scared the hell out of him. He tensed, trying to keep rein on his fear, but somehow, they knew.
The kind looking man stopped next to his bed and looked up at a monitor for a moment, before smiling at him in a reassuring way. “Aye, easy son,” the man soothed in an accented voice, “you’re all right.”
John opened his mouth, tried to say something, but his actions were wordless and it only added to his disoriented fear. He felt a light sweat break out on his forehead as he pulled in a ragged breath.
“Carson? What is it?”
The average sized man’s voice was taunt... worried. Somehow, John knew it was unusual.
Carson turned and looked back. “All of ye need to leave.”
“Carson...” the dark haired woman started.
“Now, Elizabeth,” Carson’s voice was gentle but firm. I’ll come talk to ye in a bit.”
John’s looked at her and he saw her hesitation, but after a moment she nodded slightly and turned to the others. His gaze followed hers.
The brunette smiled slightly, her expression full of compassion and caring but he found no comfort from it. The large man’s face was an unreadable mask and the other man looked clearly uncomfortable. They all followed the woman… Elizabeth, leaving him alone with… Carson?
Confusion swarmed over John. He inhaled loudly through his nose once and then again, as he tried to rein in an instinctive, confused fear that pushed at his weak control. He stared the kind man… Carson… in the eyes and saw only understanding empathy.
Carson reached back, grabbed a stool and sat down next to the bed. He looked John over for a minute. Oddly, John felt a comfort from his presence, a trust that was inherent. He felt relief to be almost alone again, to not have so many gazes on him, expecting something that he couldn’t give. He took a deeper, slower breath as Carson once again looked at his face, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“John? Son, do ye remember me?” Carson asked quietly.
Confusion laced with apprehension once again flowed through John. He squeezed his eyes shut his face twisting into a grimace. A compassionate grip squeezed his shoulder and he opened his eyes in response, to find Carson staring intently at him.
“’Tis all right, lad. I suspected this might happen.”
As quickly as it found him, Carson’s hand left John’s shoulder. “Relax, John. Ye need your rest.”
John felt as tight as a bowstring ready to snap. His confusion ran deep and left fear in its wake. He pulled in a tense, loud breath, then another. Alone. He just needed to be alone. To figure out what was happening… to try and remember… his gaze followed Carson around the bed as he grabbed a syringe and pulled up some medication.
Carson held the syringe close to the IV port and smiled down at John. “It’ll help you sleep. Right now that’s what ye need.” His smiled deepened into a gentle, reassuring one. “I know you’re confused right now.” His hand made no move towards the IV and his gaze never left John’s. “Trust me. I want to help you. Will ye let me?”
John couldn’t tear his eyes from Carson’s. Somewhere, deep inside him a voice told him to listen; told him to trust Carson… told him it’d be okay. Silently… slowly, John nodded.
Carson nodded once and turned back to the IV where he quickly injected the medicine.
John never took his eyes from the gentle doctor as a warm, relaxing feeling swept through him, driving away his fear and anxiety and leaving only a comfortable drowsiness behind. His eyelids felt heavy and longed to close. The last thing John saw, was Carson’s kind face staring back at him.
“Sleep, son.”
Carson’s gentle voice lulled him and John succumbed.
-------------------------
Carson sighed quietly as he watched John’s eyes close and his body relax into the bed. He stood there for a minute, watching John’s sleeping form. For the past two weeks, while they’d all waited anxiously for John to awaken, so many scenarios had played over in Carson’s mind. He’d done every test he could but ultimately he knew the extent of John’s head injury could never be ascertained until the colonel woke up. And now that he had...
Carson shook his head. Uncertainty, fear and confusion had all been dominant in John’s face. Even without being able to speak, Carson knew the trauma his brain had experienced had lasting effects on him. How much, he didn’t know, not yet, but Carson was almost sure retrograde amnesia was a factor. What other motor or cognitive skills the colonel had lost still had to be determined.
Like a bad horror movie, flashbacks from two weeks ago raced across his mind. Teyla’s desperate hail that the colonel had been injured... Running through the gate to find her breathing for him, her technique keeping him alive while Ronon and even Rodney stood guard... The colonel motionless... limp on a fast moving gurney, his head wrapped in a blood soaked field bandage and c-spine immobilized and secured to a backboard. His pale face... The ambu bag the only thing keeping him breathing as they burst into the infirmary...
Carson shook off the memories and watched John a moment longer. It'd been ten days before they had been able to wean John off the ventilator and extubate him, allowing the colonel to breathe on his own. Close shave with death didn't even begin to explain what he had experienced. Satisfied his patient was resting quietly for now, Carson slowly pulled back the privacy curtain and walked out into the infirmary. He shut the curtain behind him and waved his medic, Carolyn Lansing, over to him. “Carolyn, love, I want one person on days and one on nights assigned to Colonel Sheppard. I don’t want a parade of different people tending to him. He needs some consistency right now.”
Carolyn nodded silently. “Is he okay, Carson?”
Carson pursed his lips. “Don’t know yet. At the least it appears he has memory loss.”
Carolyn nodded again. “I’ll see to it.”
Carson left her and walked towards Elizabeth and the others who waited not so patiently on the far side of the infirmary. His smile was thin... strained as he walked up to them.
“Carson?” Elizabeth, as usual, was the first to speak.
“I gave him something to help him sleep; it’s the best thing right now,” Carson responded. “He’ll be out for a few hours at least, probably longer.”
Elizabeth nodded slightly. “How is he?”
Carson glanced away for a moment before looking back at her. “It’s hard to tell yet. But, he seemed reasonably aware for someone in his condition. Right now, I’m taking that as a good sign. We’ll know more once he’s had some time to get a little stronger.”
“He did not speak,” Teyla interjected. “But, I believe he wanted to.” Her voice was worried.
Carson nodded. “Aye, that’s not uncommon. Coma patients often can’t speak when they first wake. The speech center can take a wee bit to recover.”
“He seemed... lost,” Elizabeth interrupted quietly. Her brows furrowed at him. “Carson, he looked scared.” Her voice was slightly disbelieving.
Carson swallowed. “He was... or rather he is. He’s confused too and probably a bit anxious. I won’t know for sure until I can test him further, but I suspect he’s suffering from retrograde amnesia.”
“Oh my god,” Rodney interjected, “he doesn’t know who we are, does he?”
“No, Rodney, he doesn’t. “Carson affirmed. “I asked him. He doesn’t remember any of us.”
“How did that happen?” Ronon’s voice was disbelieving in its intensity.
“Retrograde amnesia can be a side effect of brain trauma like the colonel experienced,” Carson sighed. “Often large parts of their memory are missing. As I said, I won’t know the extent until I can test him further.”
“That’s why,” Elizabeth whispered. When Carson looked at her she continued. “I... I touched his hand when he first woke It seemed to make him uncomfortable.”
“Aye, it would,” Carson nodded. “Amnesia patients often have a hard time dealing with people that were once close to them. They can’t remember so to them it’s like a perfect stranger or a barely known acquaintance walking up and hugging them or doing anything personal. It’s a very uncomfortable situation for them.” Carson smiled thinly at her. “And for you. You can’t take it personally, Elizabeth.”
She smiled back. “No. No I don’t. It makes perfect sense.”
Carson sighed loudly. “He’s going to be out for quite a while. None of you are doing any good here.”
“Is that your not so subtle way of telling us to leave?” Rodney answered, his voice holding a slight note of familiar sarcasm; something they hadn’t heard much of from him since the T’eshii grenade nearly killed John.
“Aye,” Carson responded directly. “I know for a fact none of you have been getting enough sleep. I’m ordering you all to eat and rest.”
It was Elizabeth that acquiesced first. “Point taken. Keep us posted.” She squeezed his forearm gently.
“I will. Off you go.” Carson stood his ground as the four of them silently left the infirmary. As the door closed behind them, he turned and walked back to John’s private corner. Carefully pulling back the curtain, Carson walked into the secluded area and pulled it shut behind him. He walked around the bed to the stool, still sitting next to John and sat down. He folded his hands on his lap and stared at the colonel. It was a long time before he left.
-----------------------------
He felt better this time. As unconsciousness faded, his head felt clearer, his body stronger. John slowly opened his eyes and inhaled deeply. He winced slightly. His whole body felt sore, like he’d gone ten rounds with Holyfield, but his head, that was the worst. He closed his eyes, wondering if he could chase away the little man with the big sledgehammer that was pounding his skull. He groaned quietly and immediately heard footsteps approach his bed.
“Colonel Sheppard?”
Reluctant to open his eyes, John’s brows still furrowed in confusion. Colonel?
He resigned himself to the throbbing in his head and slowly opened his eyes, staring at the warm smiling face of a woman; apparently on the medical staff. He squinted. Something tugged at his mind. He felt like he knew her and yet she was a stranger to him, both at the same time. He swallowed hard. “I...” his cracked voice trailed off. What was he going to say? I don’t know you but then again I do? His confusion must’ve been apparent on his face, because her smile turned understanding.
“It’s all right, Colonel. I’m Carolyn. Carolyn Lansing.”
John managed a half smile. “Nice to meet you,” he whispered. “And it’s Major... not Colonel,” he corrected lightly. His smile faded as a barely concealed look of confusion passed over her face before she quickly hid it under another smile.
“Of course. I’m sorry.” She looked up at the monitor over his head for a moment, before she gently took his wrist and measured his pulse rate. She stared at her watch but still made idle conversation. “You’re stronger today. Are you in any pain?”
John hesitated, before smiling slightly. “Pretty sore, but I’m all right.”
She stared at him for a moment, before nodding and setting his arm down gently on the bed. “How does your bandage feel?”
Her words alerted his senses and he immediately became aware of a tight wrap around his head. His gaze narrowed slightly. “Bandage?” He lifted a shaking hand to his head, his touch encountering thick gauze. He let his arm drop. “What happened?”
Her ever present small smile faded slightly. “I’ll let Dr. Beckett talk to you about that.”
Suddenly, as if the pieces of a giant puzzle were falling together, John made the connection. His head... his memory... “It’s why I can’t remember...” his voice trailed off as the worry within him was replaced by fear. His ragged breath hissed through his clenched teeth as he struggled to stay calm. A warm squeeze on his arm grabbed his attention. He looked up and into the strongly reassuring expression on Carolyn’s face. The compassion he felt from her touch overpowered any discomfort he had from someone he felt he barely knew touching him in such a personal way.
“John,” she said quietly, “you’re going to be fine. We’re all going to help you.”
“Carolyn?” John panted slightly, “What happened to me?”
She sighed quietly. “You were in an accident. I’m sorry, John, but I can’t tell you anything more until Dr. Beckett has had a chance to talk to you. But,” she squeezed his arm again, “you’re going to be okay.”
John looked away from her for a moment before nodding slightly. Her hand left his arm.
“Just relax. I’m going to get Dr. Beckett, then we’ll take a look at your bandage, okay?”
His mind still reeling, John managed a small whisper. “okay.” He watched her disappear behind the privacy curtain before his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The architecture looked unlike anything he’d ever seen and did nothing to comfort him. Where the hell am I? What happened? He forced his pounding head to think, to go back... to find the last thing he remembered before waking up here.
“Request permission to lead a search team,” John stared hard at his CO, his determination unwavering.
Colonel Hays sighed. “John, the conditions are rapidly deteriorating. The temperature out there alone makes it questionable they’re even alive. On top of that, you’ve got blinding snow and crosswinds from hell. You won’t even be able to see the nose of your chopper, much less anything else.”
“With all due respect, sir, those men are out there in it,” John countered his voice deep with intensity, “we can’t just leave them, not if there’s a chance they’re alive.”
“John it’s the weather that brought Stiles team down in the first place and it’s only gotten worse. I don’t need two lost crews!” Hays voice raised slightly in frustration.
John pulled in a deep breath as he scrutinized his CO. The frustration at not being able to do anything shone clearly on the colonel’s face, and John knew, without a doubt, Hays wanted nothing more then to authorize the rescue mission and find those men, come hell, high water or blinding blizzards. Hays was a good soldier; one John could relate to and in a moment of black cynicism John wondered, if there were CO’s out there he could get along with, why did the brass who condemned him have to be such pricks... John pulled in a loud, deep breath. “I’m volunteering,” he said quietly. “I know the risks. I’m not asking anyone to go with me.”
“You don’t have to ask,” a voice, heavy with a deep southern drawl interrupted from behind John. “You’ll need a medic.”
John couldn’t quite stifle a smile as he turned and looked directly at Lieutenant Edwards. The Mississippi native smiled mischievously back at him.
A deep, almost humored sigh grabbed John’s attention and he looked back to Hays.
“Oh hell,” Hays muttered. “You’re two peas in a pod. How I ever had the bad luck to end up with both of you in my command...” Hays sighed again and stared hard at John. “Permission granted.” He raised his hand, stopping John before he could turn away. “On one condition. You two get your asses back here in one piece. That’s an order.”
John smiled slightly. “Yes, sir, and we’ll bring Stiles and his guys back with us.”
Hays nodded once. “Go.”
John blinked hard as the memory faded. His gaze again focused on the ceiling above him, the memory doing nothing to clear his confusion. This wasn’t McMurdo... He turned his head slightly as the curtain opened and Carolyn returned, Carson right behind her.
“Colonel? Feeling better?” Carson asked as he stopped at the foot of John’s bed and glanced at his chart.
John’s brows furrowed. Colonel again? “Compared to what?” he managed softly. A quiet sigh escaped him as Carson’s expression turned concerned. “Yeah,” he muttered. “And it’s major,” there was an edge to his voice, “not colonel,” he emphasized.
Carson set the chart on a nearby tray table and slowly walked up next to John’s bed. “What’s the last thing you remember, son?”
John swallowed hard. “Colonel Hays gave Edwards and me a go to try and find Stiles’ team.” Even as the words left his mouth, John somehow felt they were wrong. “Did we crash?” he asked quietly. His eyes roved around the room for a minute. “This isn’t McMurdo...” his voice trailed off and he looked back at Carson who shook his head slightly.
“No, it isn’t,” Carson answered quietly. He took a step closer to the bed, his gaze demanding John’s attention. “You’re Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard; commanding officer of the Atlantis expedition.”
“Atlantis,” John breathed, “Colonel?” He took one ragged breath, than another. “What the hell?”
Carson eased himself onto the edge of John’s bed. “It’s all right. I expected you to be confused. You suffered a head injury, Colonel. Depressed skull fracture complicated by a subdural hematoma. I won’t lie to ye, you’re lucky to be alive.”
John’s thoughts raced his rapid breathing matching speed. “Did I crash?” he repeated softly, somehow knowing what the answer would be.
Carson shook his head. “No. ye, didn’t crash, Colonel.” He smiled thinly and put a warm hand on John’s shoulder. “I wasn’t sure the extent of brain damage before you woke up, but, you’re alert and responsive. This conversation is a very good sign that it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”
“Glad this conversation is reassuring to one of us,” John answered, not able to keep the cynicism from his voice.
Carson pursed his lips. “I know this is a lot for you to take in at once, son, and it has to be very frustrating, but we’re going to help ye through this. You’re suffering from retrograde amnesia, not overly common in trauma like this, but not unheard of.” He sighed. “I expect memories will start coming back to you and we’ll help you with that too, but ye have to be patient; give yourself time to heal.”
John swallowed, his mind numb with shock as he tried to process everything Carson said to him. Finally, he just nodded silently. Apparently, that was good enough for Carson who stood up.
“I want to take a look at that hard head of yours now, Colonel,” Carson teased lightly. “I need you to sit up, but I want you to do it slow and easy. Carolyn will help you. Take your time, there’s no rush.”
John turned his gaze to Carolyn and managed a feeble smile.
She returned the favor with a stronger more reassuring smile than his and extended her hand towards him.
John took her hand and let her support and help him as he slowly sat up. He felt as weak as a newborn kitten and just about as helpless, but the calm look on Carolyn’s face reassured him that he must be doing okay. Abruptly, his world tilted and John squeezed his eyes shut against the pounding in his head and breathed through the sudden nausea that plagued him. He felt Carolyn’s grip tighten and Carson’s strong hand on his back.
“Easy son,” Carson’s voice was quiet. “I don’t expect your head’s going to be too fond of ye moving for quite a while yet.”
A light sheen of sweat broke out on his brow as he took another ragged breath and swallowed hard, trying to keep his rebellious stomach under control.
“Carson? He’s pretty pale.”
Carolyn’s voice sounded distant to John as he held tight to her arm and even tighter to his control.
“Aye,” Carson agreed, “I got him. Grab a basin.”
“No,” John managed in a choked voice. “’m ok...”
“All right,” Carson answered. “I’ll make this as fast as possible.”
John felt the bandages on his head move before slowly lifting away. He clung tight to Carolyn’s hand and arm using it to stay grounded and to stave off the vertigo that plagued him. He hissed in pain as something pushed on the right side of his skull.
“Sorry,” Carson muttered, “looking better. We’ll get another pass with the Ancient scanner, an MRI and set of X-rays tomorrow.”
John could feel the shaking in his weak body as it neared the end of its limited endurance. As Carson’s hands left his head, he couldn’t hold it up and his head gently fell forward to come to rest on Carolyn’s shoulder. For a moment, he was motionless before he realized he was leaning heavily on the medic. He tried to lift his head. “Sorry...” his voice trailed off as he felt Carolyn’s hand tighten around his.
“Its okay, we’re almost done,” she answered gently.
“Aye son, almost,” Carson reaffirmed as his hand slowly pushed up on John’s forehead. “Just let me get ye re-bandaged here...”
John did his best to hold his head up but he could feel the muscles in his neck shaking with exhaustion and a moment of relief washed over him as Carson finished. He felt Carson’s hand on the back of his head, supporting him.
“All right. Lay down, nice and slow now. Let Carolyn help you.”
John eased himself back, letting his head settle into Carson’s hand and using Carolyn’s grip to slowly lay down. His head met the soft pillow and he felt Carson pull his hand free as Carolyn laid his arm close to his body.
“Get some rest, Colonel,” Carson urged quietly. “We’ll talk more later.”
John fought his heavy eyelids. He had so many questions, so much he needed to think about, but his worn out mind and body won over. This time, he needed no drugs as his eyelids fell shut and he succumbed to exhaustion.
----------------------------------
Elizabeth watched as Ronon once again paced past her. She knew it had only been a few minutes since Carson had disappeared behind the privacy curtain to check John, but it’d seemed like an eternity. She could still see the haunted and lost look in John’s eyes when he’d seen her; void of any recognition or the familiarity she’d come to enjoy. The fear she saw in his features stoked a fear within her as well. She’d rarely seen him scared, truly scared.
She sighed quietly as Ronon’s form passed her again, but decided against saying anything. Rodney, however had no such reservations.
“You’re wearing a track in the floor, Conan,” Rodney snapped. “Want to knock it off?”
Wordlessly, Ronon turned and stalked over to Rodney. He stood close, his form dwarfing the scientist. His dark eyes intense, Ronon stared down at Rodney.
“Of course,” Rodney stammered, “that’s really only a request...” his voice trailed off as Teyla pulled gently but insistently on Ronon’s arm.
“Ronon,” Teyla said quietly.
Elizabeth watched a spark of emotion, mostly frustration, race across Ronon’s face before he buried it under a mask and stepped back. Fueled by concern, tempers were definitely short all around, including hers which she tried to bury under professionalism. “We don’t need any more casualties,” she warned quietly, her green eyes locking on Ronon’s strong brown ones before she sent the same warning glare at Rodney. Her gaze softened as she caught sight of Carson emerging from behind the privacy curtain concealing John’s bed. Elizabeth pushed away from the pillar she leaned on and was the first one to reach Carson. “How is he?”
Carson sighed. “Sleeping again. Truthfully, it’s the best for him.” He waved towards the far side of the infirmary. “Come with me.” Carson headed for a large diagnostic display.
Elizabeth stopped slightly to the left of the display as the others gathered close to her. She bit her lip in apprehension as Carson typed a couple keys before a three dimensional, graphical display of the brain came up on the screen. She stared at it a moment before sighing quietly. “Carson, how bad is it?”
Carson gave her a thin smile. “Not as bad as it could’ve been, but there is damage.”
“How bad?” Rodney interjected.
“Just hold on a minute, “Carson raised his hand. “Let me explain what is going on.” He pointed at the screen. “The Colonel’s depressed skull fracture and subsequent subdural hematoma, occurred here, about two inches above and about an inch in front of his ear.” He ran his finger along a dark line in the image. “This ‘line’ for lack of better description, marks the separation between the temporal and parietal lobes of the brain. Behind that is the hippocampus.”
“Carson, enough with brain anatomy 101!” Rodney snapped. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Rodney,” Elizabeth admonished quietly.
“I’m getting to that, Rodney,” Carson patiently answered. “Based on the Colonel’s MRI the trauma to his brain occurred in this area,” his finger traced a circle that encompassed parts of both lobes. “The temporal lobe trauma, along with what I suspect is trauma to the hippocampus is causing his retrograde amnesia. The MRI shows evidence of trauma to this small area of the parietal lobe but I haven’t been able to ascertain if that has had any lasting effect on him, not yet. As for what other effects his injuries have had on him, I don’t know yet. I’ll be running several standard tests, targeting the function of each of these lobes, to determine the extent of damage to his brain.”
“In other words, you still don’t know,” Rodney replied coldly.
“No, I don’t and probably won’t have a complete analysis for a week or so. Symptoms he displays now could fade as areas of his brain recover, others may not. It’s just too early to tell.”
“Carson, what sort of... impediments are we talking about?” Part of Elizabeth didn’t want to ask, but the other part of her wanted to be prepared for what may be coming.
Carson’s loud sigh was accompanied by a slow shake to his head. “There’s a wide range of potential problems, some minor, some very severe and could affect him the rest of his life.” He pointed at the screen again. “The parietal lobe is crucial to integrating sensory information from the rest of the body as well as controlling fine motor skills such as writing. It’s also vital to spatial orientation. I can rule out damage to speech and word association as he’s coherent and making sense, but beyond that, I’m not sure. Damage to the hippocampus effects memory, which we’ve already seen, as well as damage to the temporal lobe,” his hand move down slightly on the display, “which could cause a variety of behavioral issues.” Carson turned around, crossed his arms and looked directly at Elizabeth. “He’s confused and even a wee bit scared right now and that’s on top of just trying to recover from the physical trauma his body’s experienced. I want to give him some time before I test him too much or throw too much at him.”
“Can we help?” Teyla asked quietly. “Perhaps we can be there for him as support?”
Carson smiled slightly at her. “Aye, but remember, lass, he doesn’t remember any of you. You have to treat him accordingly, but yes, he could use friends.”
“He’ll have them,” Ronon interjected.
Elizabeth nodded her agreement and took a silent moment to process everything Carson had said. “We know for sure he’s suffering from retrograde amnesia, do you know the last thing he remembers?”
Carson leaned wearily back against the table holding the display screen and nodded. “Aye. Right now, the last thing he remembers is a rescue mission in Antarctica. Something about a crew that went down in a storm and he and one other officer went after them.” Carson looked away for a moment. “When he woke, he corrected both Carolyn and I on his rank, insisting he was a Major.”
“Oh my god,” Elizabeth muttered as she looked away.
“Carson, his tour in Antarctica was three years ago!” Rodney answered.
“Aye,” Carson agreed, “that it is. With some help we should be able to improve on that, hopefully by a significant amount. It depends on the extent of damage.”
“How much?” Elizabeth knew she was pressing Carson for a defined answer when he probably didn’t have one.
Carson shook his head. “Ideally? Everything but the immediate memories surrounding the accident. He’ll probably never regain those. Realistically? I’m hoping he’ll eventually recover most of the last three years, but he’ll probably have holes, things he won’t remember. If the damage to the temporal lobe and especially the hippocampus is bad enough, he may not even recover that. Right now, I just don’t know.”
“What about the scanner?” Rodney suddenly interjected.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him in confusion. “What are you talking about, Rodney?”
“Oh no,” Carson shook his head. “No way.”
“Gentlemen,” Elizabeth chastised. “Care to inform the rest of us about this scanner?”
“The Ancient’s scanner,” Rodney immediately responded. “We’re almost positive that it also has healing elements to it; the ability to heal complex injuries that it scans in the body. But, we’ve never been able to figure out how it works.”
“You’ve never taken the time to really look into it, Rodney,” Carson rebutted.
“Yes, yes!” Rodney snapped back. “I’ve been kind of busy with, oh I don’t know, power? ZedPM’s? Wraith attacks and shields?” Rodney waved his hand furiously. “The point is, the thing has the ability to heal way above our current technology. We just haven’t tested it yet.”
“Aye!” Carson interjected, “and I’m not about to test the bloody thing on the Colonel’s brain!”
“I think you’re a little ahead of yourself, Rodney,” Elizabeth raised her hand to stop Rodney’s protest. “Right now, we don’t know for sure what John’s injuries are. If you don’t know how to use it, we’re not testing it on him.”
“I wasn’t suggesting a blind test without knowing what the hell we’re doing,” Rodney objected. “I’m just saying, I think I can figure it out, and it might help.”
“Researching it won’t hurt anything,” Carson nodded, “but you’re going to have to do a fair bit of convincing and proving for me to authorize it.”
Elizabeth’s attention was diverted by Ronon moving. “I’m leaving all of this to you. Gonna go sit with him for a while.” Without another word, he turned and left the rest of them.
“Ronon has a good idea,” Teyla started to follow only to be stopped by Carson’s voice.
“No, love, sorry,” he smiled apologetically, “only one at a time, too many strange faces are too overwhelming. We need to take this at his pace.”
Teyla smiled understandingly. “Of course.”
Carson pushed away from the table and stood straight. “I wish I could tell ye more right now, but I just don’t have the answers yet.”
Elizabeth nodded silently, keeping a firm rein on her emotions. “Keep me posted.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and briskly left the infirmary.
As she walked down the long corridors of Atlantis, her mind raced. Memory loss... three years of memory loss. My god, he doesn’t remember anything about Atlantis, the Wraith, his job... his friends. Carson’s words rang in her head. Spatial orientation, sensory loss, loss of fine motor skills, permanent behavior issues... she swallowed hard against a lump that pushed in her throat and made a beeline for the nearest outdoor balcony she could find. Was he even John Sheppard anymore?
Elizabeth stepped through a set of large doors, and scanned the spacious balcony a sense of irony sweeping over her. Through some twist of fate, she’d ended up on the very same balcony they’d had their first Atlantis celebration on, shortly after rescuing Teyla and their people from the Wraith.
She slowly crossed the balcony to the very edge and rested her hands on the railing as memories came back to her... the very same memories John was now denied.
“Well, you are the ranking military officer now, or do you need to be reminded of that? We need to get back out there; do what we came to do.”
“You do realize I can get us into all sorts of trouble, right?”
Her grip on the railing tightened and she let the professional mask she’d clung to, fall. John had made good on his words, god, they all had made mistakes, not just him, but he’d also done so much for her, his team and the entire expedition. She closed her eyes, and prayed she’d have to endure John Sheppard’s “trouble” again.
---------------------------------------
“Get down!”
“Colonel!”
John’s eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply, his body tensing. For a moment, he felt dread and fear, before the pieces of what his mind was trying to remember disappeared.
“John.”
He turned his head slightly and looked into a set of gentle, brown eyes and he recognized the brunette woman as one of the people that had been there before. He felt a trickle of sweat on his forehead and she must’ve seen it for she looked away a moment and reached for something. When she looked back, she held her smile and wiped a cloth across his forehead. John swallowed hard and stared at her. His instincts told him he should know her, but his mind drew a blank. Uncomfortable and just a little scared, he pursed his lips and looked away. Her hand left his brow.
“I am Teyla,” she said gently. “It is all right that you do not recognize me. I am still your friend.”
Her soft, understanding words reassured him, if only slightly. He stared back at her. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Her smile was warm and compassionate. “Do not apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
One side of his mouth turned up slightly. “Thanks… Teyla.” He relaxed slightly. “Tell me about you.”
Teyla leaned back in her chair. “I am Athosian and a member of your team.” A look of respect crossed her face. “We have fought side by side many times.”
John sighed. Member of his team? Fought together? His brow wrinkled. That was important. He knew it signified a close bond; something only forged by braving life and death situations together. Yet, none of it was familiar. “Wish I remembered,” he commented quietly. His eyes met hers.
Teyla stared intently at him. “That will come, John. You must give yourself time to heal. Then you will remember.”
Her voice was confident and John let some of that reassure him.
She inhaled deeply. “Something disturbed your sleep,” she stated quietly, “do you wish to speak of it?”
Fleeting moments of danger, fear and dread passed through him. He swallowed against a lump in his throat. Whatever his mind couldn’t piece together felt personal; and he hesitated. She must’ve sensed his uncertainty.
“You do not have to speak of it, John.”
Her understanding tone quelled his unease and suddenly he felt comfortable with her… like he’d known her for a long time. Apparently, I have… John’s brows furrowed and he took a deep breath. “Not much to talk about. More of an impression than anything…” he closed his eyes. “Something… dangerous.” After a long moment, he sighed and opened his eyes. “It’s not there. I… I can’t remember.”
“Have patience, John,” Teyla counseled.
John arched a brow in dark cynicism. “That’s not one of my fortes,” he muttered. He looked at Teyla as she chuckled quietly.
“I know,” she affirmed.
Her light humor was contagious and, in spite of the situation, he smiled slightly. “You really do know me.” As quick as it came, his smile faded.
“Yes,” Teyla nodded, “I do.”
“Teyla?” he pursed his lips. “What…” John swallowed hard. “What happened? Were you there?” He thought he saw something resembling guilt fleet across her expression, but it was only for a moment before she buried it in an impassive mask.
“I was there,” she answered quietly. She looked away for a moment, before her gaze once more found his. “I cannot tell you, John, not yet. You must begin to remember on your own first.”
John bit back his frustration and just nodded slightly.
“I am sorry,” Teyla continued. “It is for the best.”
John softened his expression some. “Yeah.”
Abruptly, the privacy curtain was pulled back to reveal Carson’s smiling face. “I thought I heard voices in here. How are you feeling, Colonel?”
John found a small smile. “Little stronger.” He started pushing himself up to his elbows. “Can I…” his voice trailed off as a wave of vertigo stopped him dead to rights. He closed his eyes and slowly sank back to his pillow with a groan.
“Ach,” Carson walked up to his bed, “let that be a lesson to ye. Two days out of a coma with a head injury and you expect to dance the bloody jig.” He looked down at John and sighed. “You are not the best patient I’ve ever had, Colonel.”
John kept his eyes closed a moment longer, until he was sure the room had stopped spinning and the pain in his head had dulled back to a persistent throb. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at Carson. “I hate hospitals.”
Carson snorted quietly but said nothing. He gently placed a clipboard on John’s lap. “I have a little exercise for you if you’re up to it?”
John nodded slightly. “Yeah, what?”
Carson fished around in his pocket and pulled out a pen which he held in front of John. “Write your name for me.”
Slightly confused, John slowly reached up and took the pen. He glanced at Teyla, whose face was an unreadable mask, before looking down at the blank piece of paper. “Write my name? Why?” He arched a brow at Carson.
“Trust me, just do it,” Carson urged.
John’s other brow joined the first as he lifted the clipboard with his free hand but as he lifted the pen to the paper, he found himself staring blankly at it. He slowly started to write, but the scribbling mark he made in no way resembled a J. He sucked in a loud breath and dropped both the pen and the clipboard. “Crap,” he whispered. He closed his eyes, fear and confusion sweeping through him, only to be followed by embarrassment and shame. He felt the bed shift as Teyla sat down next to him and he felt Carson’s warm hand on his shoulder, but neither did anything to comfort him. “Doc…” he whispered.
“It’s all right son,” Carson said quietly. “This doesn’t surprise me.”
“Then you’re the only… one!” John managed through clenched teeth. “Shit, Doc, I can’t write!”
“John…” Teyla started, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with it.
“No, damn it! Don’t tell me to be patient and I’ll be fine.” John’s eyes snapped open. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m screwed up!”
“John.” Carson’s voice took on a stern note. “You took a major blow to the head. There were bound to be some… complications.” Carson’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “I know it’s not much comfort, lad, but this could’ve been worse… a lot worse.”
John pulled in one ragged breath, then another. “Sorry Doc,” He couldn’t quiet keep the sarcasm from his voice. “I’m not exactly comforted right now.”
Carson’s smile was grim. “No, I don’t expect you are. We’ll help you with this. The relearning rate of someone in your circumstance is very rapid. Take heart in that.”
John felt less than reassured by Carson’s words and was sure his expression showed it. “Yeah, right.” He felt the bed shift as Teyla abruptly stood.
“I… I have commitments,” she stammered slightly. “I will be back later, John.”
Before he could say a word, she whipped the curtain aside and left. He looked over at Carson his gaze narrowing at the sympathetic look on the doctor’s face. His gut instinct took over and John was sure, without a shadow of a doubt, there was something significant he couldn’t remember… and they weren’t telling him. Frustration wormed its way into his voice. “What the hell is going on?”
Carson’s expression turned hesitant as he continued to silently stare across the infirmary.
His frustration rising, John stared harder at Carson. “Doc.”
Carson sighed deeply before looking down at John. “I think the lass blames herself for what has happened to you, although it was not her fault.”
John’s mind raced, adrenaline pushing aside the throbbing pain. Fortifying his resolve, he let a tone of command enter his voice. “Tell me what happened.”
“John…” Carson started.
“No.” John decisively cut the doctor off. “I want to know what happened. Damn it, Carson, I need to know.” John’s breathing increased as his gaze bore a hole through the doctor.
Carson looked away for a moment and shook his head slightly before once more meeting John’s gaze. “Your team was ambushed off world. You were injured when you ran between Teyla and a grenade. You pushed her out of the way, but the force of the grenade blast knocked you down hard. Your head hit a rock and fractured your skull.” Carson paused.
John swallowed hard and took a moment to absorb what the doctor had told him. “Go on,” he insisted.
“You were nearly killed by the blow,” Carson continued quietly. “In fact, if it wasn’t for Teyla’s CPR, you would’ve been. She kept you alive until my team could get to you.”
John turned his head away from Carson and squeezed his eyes shut, the racing of his mind, doing nothing to help with his throbbing pain.
“So,” Carson added, “I suspect she feels guilty.”
“She shouldn’t,” John whispered. “I’d do that for anyone on my team and… she saved my life.”
“Aye,” Carson agreed, “but I suspect she needs some time to see that.”
John forced his eyes opened. “Who ambushed us?” His voice was deep and held a dangerous note. He looked back at Carson.
A touch of anger infused Carson’s normally kind expression. “A race known as the T’eshii.”
T’eshii… The word sparked an instantaneous and instinctive reaction in him. Flashes of pain, cruelty, hatred and terror shot through him and John inhaled deeply, the emotional response almost painful. His face contorted as he squeezed his eyes shut against the painful assault.
“Colonel? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Carson’s worried voice pulled John back to reality. He took one stuttering breath, than another as he tried to compose himself. He felt Carson’s hand on his wrist.
“Your heart is racing, Colonel. What’s wrong, lad? Talk to me.” Carson insisted.
John forced his eyes open, his gaze meeting Carson’s worried one. “I’m okay,” he tried to reassure the doctor. “I just…” His brows wrinkled as he tried to find the words to explain what he had just experienced. “I… I know the T’eshii, don’t I?”
Dark cynicism permeated Carson’s expression. “Aye, ye could say that. They captured you and held you hostage last year.”
John pushed at his memories, trying to get them to come together; to give him more than just an impression of pain and anger, but it was futile as even the emotions faded from his mind. “Tell me more,” he insisted, but Carson shook his head in response.
“No. You must remember on your own, John. We’ll help you, but we can’t tell you everything; that won’t help you at all. You have to try to remember, son, but you also have to give it time and go slow. Don’t push yourself too hard,” Carson pointed at him. “I mean it.” Carson stood. “That’s enough for now. Ye need to sleep. Can you go to sleep on your own, or do you need something to help?”
“Don’t want to sleep,” John muttered, his mind still occupied with everything he’d learned and experienced since he awoke. “Too much to think about.”
“I’ll take that as an affirmation of the latter option,” Carson answered matter-of-factly. “Besides, you’re as white as a sheet, lad. I don’t suspect your head is feeling all that good.” Carson walked around his bed and grabbed a bottle of medication. “Sleep is the best thing for you right now.” He looked down at John, his expression imploring. “Please.”
After a moment, John nodded slightly. “I do feel like crap,” he admitted. He watched as Carson injected a syringe of medication into his IV. Seconds later, the familiar warm feeling flowed through him and succumbed to it.
--------------------------------
Ronon stopped in the doorway to the gym, crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame, the sight meeting his gaze not surprising him in the least. Across the room, Teyla was invoking a considerable amount of abuse with Bantos sticks on a practice dummy.
His gaze narrowed as he noted the sweat on her skin and the slight waver of fatigue that weakened each blow. Imperceptible to most people, Ronon still saw the hints of exhaustion as she continued her relentless assault. He pushed himself away from the doorframe and slowly walked across the gym. He grabbed a set of Bantos sticks and, giving her wide berth, walked around Teyla until he was in the line of sight for her peripheral vision. He waited as she finished a set of maneuvers, before she stopped and looked at him, her chest heaving with each fast breath.
Ronon raised his sticks. “Spar?”
She arched a cold eyebrow at him. “I do not wish to talk.”
“I didn’t say talk. I said spar.” Ronon answered. He held his sticks in a defensive position as she turned to face him.
“Very well.”
Ronon watched her lithe movements as she circled left, countering his right hand circling. He saw her stomach tense an instant before she attacked him. He deflected each of her blows, and sent a few back at her, nodding to himself in approval as she repelled them before they both stepped back, conceding a draw on the sortie.
Again, he watched her. He’d spent enough time sparring with her to get past the fact that not only was she about as good of a fighter as him, but she was also female. It’d never bothered him, he’d met enough races in the galaxy where women warriors were just as common as men, but it had taken a little getting used to as Satedan women rarely pursued the warrior’s way of life. He abruptly refocused his attention as she again attacked him, her attack furious before she stepped back and circled again.
Ronon opted to stay on the defensive. This wasn’t a spar to hone skills, this was something she needed, to purge some unwarranted guilt she carried… and he knew exactly what for.
“How did you find me?” She asked as she continued circling him.
“Went to the infirmary,” Ronon answered. “Talked to Beckett. Figured you’d be here.”
Tension stiffened her body right before she attacked, and Ronon could see it in her taut blows; each lacking the graceful aptitude he’d come to know. He parried, twisted and landed a light tap to her upper arm before dancing back away from her. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Teyla dropped her arms and glared at him. “Do not attempt to placate me. I should have seen it coming.”
“No,” Ronon hardened his tone. “You shouldn’t have.”
She waved a stick absently. “I have told you. I do not wish to talk.”
He twirled one stick in his hand and stared hard at her. “Fine. Don’t talk. Just listen. It was an ambush. No one saw it coming.”
“Colonel Sheppard saw it early enough to…” her voice trailed off. “I do not wish to speak,” she whispered. Her shoulders sagged and her defenses fell.
Ronon felt a twinge of sympathy as he watched the stoic warrior within Teyla, battle with the human side of her. He put both his sticks in one hand and walked over to her. Settling a strong grip on her shoulder, he hunched slightly and cocked his head, making eye contact with her. “You can’t let this eat you, Teyla,” he insisted softly. “I know you would’ve done the same for him, we all would. That’s because we’re a team.” He tightened his grip. “You have to let it go.” Without another word, Ronon stepped back and left her standing there. He knew there was nothing else he could say to convince her and he knew if he was in her situation, he’d want to be alone. Returning the sticks to the equipment bin, Ronon silently left the gym.
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On to Part 2!