Games Without Frontiers 2/2
Title: Games Without Frontiers 2/2
Category: SGA H/C Challenges Easter-fic 2010
Author: Roo1965
Story for: Kriadydragon
Season : 3 , after Common Ground but before Phantoms & The Return.
Summary : Sheppard’s lost and then found, but not happy to be back in Atlantis- why is that? Just because he’s paranoid, it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get him. Or does it? There’s also ShepLantis elements. Shep whump, h/c as standard. John and other POV’s. Gen
Word count: ~5,026 in this part
Word wrangling and Keeper of all things common sense: CoolBreeze1
GAMES WITHOUT FRONTIERS PART TWO
Carson arrives late to the emergency meeting that Elizabeth and Rodney called, wanting to get a full work up ordered on the Colonel before he left the infirmary. He walks in to a heated debate on whether Colonel Sheppard is responsible for the Gate going offline and whether there is anything deadly heading towards them from space.
No-one outright wants to admit or suggest that Atlantis may have something to do with it either, that the city is more than 1 and 0’s.
“Do we have any teams out or due back?”
“No, oddly enough everyone’s here, or on safe haven.”
“That was lucky.”
“Hmm, wasn’t it? I wonder…”
“Rodney-you think it’s the Colonel?”
“He’s a little wonky at present- but then so are some of the systems in Atlantis. But there is an interaction.”
Elizabeth looks sceptical
“You’re not suggesting that the city is sentient?”
Rodney makes a see-sawing motion with his hand as if undecided.
“There’s something different between Sheppard and the city since he got back, we can’t deny that. But I think it’s more push/pull than love at present. Maybe ‘she’s’,” he says, making finger air quotes “protecting Sheppard, or stopping him from leaving like he keeps saying he should.”
“What if he’s right?” Elizabeth asks, worried.
“What if he isn’t? What if that’s exactly what they want?” Rodney counters, straightening up in his seat.
“Can we recap on what we do know of his disappearance? Maybe we missed something?” Elizabeth suggests diplomatically, clearly not wanting to get into an argument.
Rodney disagrees “No, we may not have time for that. We need…”
“What? To wait for a Hive ship to appear? Or someone else? He wouldn’t.” Ronon asserts bluntly.
“Not willingly, no.” Rodney’s just saying what they all think, even though it’s a shocking idea when voiced in the open. Everyone looks a little uncomfortable, Lorne in particular. Carson knows he’s very loyal to his CO.
“From the beginning then…”
“Do we have to do this?” Rodney whines, “We weren’t with him; he was helping out SGA-7’s earth grubbing soft scientists! He went off to help some locals mend something and they didn’t notice the invading marauding bandits that took all the men for their slave trade!”
“Rodney, we can’t blame Dr. Mallard’s team.” Teyla soothes, but to Carson she and Ronon look like they are feeling just as guilty.
“Why not?” splutters Rodney.
“Anyway,” Elizabeth continues “He was taken along with the locals and you downloaded the list of gate addresses. Ronon and Teyla investigated potential neighbourhood disputes and rivalries that might shed some light. You searched several planets before finding his subQT in a cell on MX9228, but by then several days had passed.” Elizabeth summarised.
Rodney shivered. “Nothing left but the bodies of his captors and no sign of the other men that were taken with him.”
“I think Sheppard was separated from the men on M9 at some point along the way. The slavers or bounty hunters took him to MX9-228, where Sheppard managed to escape but I know he took out one or two of them when he went. Someone else came along later and tidied up. Different gun and techniques.” Ronon adds confidently.
“So, yes more addresses to sift through from MX9228,” Rodney picks up “I found the address where we think Sheppard went to when he escaped because he cancelled a glyph and started over. The log showed that. He knew enough, despite being high as a kite and chased and on the run, not to go where they expected him to. To hide. The cancelled glyph is the first in the Atlantis sequence- and yes I know all the permutations but it was Sheppard, I know it. He would never lead them back here or to any allies or alpha site.”
“He became a Runner….” Teyla says quietly. “When we got to the address Rodney thought John had gone to next, we did not find him, although we called out and searched. We found blood traces which Dr Beckett confirmed were his. We do not think he was there for long before moving on again.” Teyla continued.
Lorne leans forward, resting his elbows on the table “I sent teams out undercover and gathered as much intel as we could. There’s a lot of unrest out there, hive and wraith activity, rogue Genii, mercenaries, slavers, whole lot of nasties looking for healthy labour and maybe a ransom opportunity. That or they wanted him for the ATA gene. We picked up on some minor disturbances- stealing, fights that could have been the Colonel. It wasn’t until I was on Kisor that I heard whispers of someone wanting to meet Lanteans discreetly. We verified credentials and they were legit and on our side as far as we could tell from our other allies.” Lorne nodded at Ronon and Teyla in thanks. “I thought the worst when the guy said they’d got a body and then they gave me his dogtags. You know the rest.”
“Doctor Beckett would you like to add to the story?”
“Well, he put up a fight when they took him. At some point he took some blows to his back and stomach resulting in bruised kidneys. He was tied up by the hands, had his shoes and jacket removed and he was drugged- common ones easily available on several worlds. It’s just the amount and combination that caused him problems. They can cause paranoia and hallucinations. Coupled with the stress of escaping, being on the run and acquiring a fractured cheekbone and another head injury towards the end have accumulated into the very stressed, dehydrated and painful condition that he is now suffering from.”
“Will he recover?” Elizabeth pushes. Carson doesn’t envy her having to keep the SGC at bay. The Daedalus was almost back to Earth. At least it meant Col. Caldwell was out of the picture for now. By the time they returned to the Pegasus Galaxy Colonel Sheppard would be well on the way to recovery.
“Yes, but it will take some time and he has to have bed rest- his feet for starters. There’s no way he should be transferred to Earth, even if the Gate was working- I won’t allow it, and Kate agrees with me. I know he’s stressed out about being followed with tracking devices and everything. But he’s with friends here. He can recuperate on the mainland later if that’s what he wants. He needs to put on a few more pounds before I’ll allow that.”
“That’s the line I was taking and the SGC were offering help, not recalling him, the last time I spoke with General Landry,” Elizabeth reassures the group.
“It’s not over yet. Colonel Sheppard is remembering and he needs to tell us in his own time. Everything’s still jumbled and it’s painful and traumatic for him. Yes, he’s been captured before. But the drugs and head injuries are making him question his belief in himself. The not knowing is going to eat away at him.”
“Why?”
“Because Colonel Sheppard likes control and order and he lost that nearly three weeks ago. Being bed bound is only reinforcing that. That was why I allowed the wheelchair earlier.”
“That is good news of a sort. We shall be there to help,” Teyla says with a small smile.
“I was hoping he’d gain more weight before I let him back to his room under supervision. That’s not going to happen just yet.”
“Is that all Carson?” Elizabeth asks, wanting to wrap the meeting up.
“No, I’m afraid there’s something else- I think he’s heading for a stomach ulcer or something similar. I’m stopping his food and water so I can do an endoscopy tomorrow morning to see what’s going on.”
“But what about all those scans and X-rays you’ve done?” Rodney bursts out, surprised.
“They won’t show that. If the endoscopy doesn’t work then maybe a barium meal will, but let’s hope it won’t come to that. Excuse me; I’d like to get back to the Colonel now.”
0o0
Carson pulls over a chair and explains the situation to the Colonel.
“I hate to stop your food and water for the next 6 hours, but it’s the only way to get good results for the endoscopy.”
“Good luck looking at my innards. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone, Doc.”
“Aye, don’t thank me just yet. Your recent stomach troubles showed blood and that’s not good. The procedure should take about half an hour. I have to pass this lighted tube down your oesophagus.”
“I’m not going to be awake for this am I?”
“No, I’ll give you some pain relief and a sedative. It’s the best way to see what’s going on. I expect it’s just an ulcer or maybe a blockage. But we can sort those out right enough. Don’t you worry.”
“I won’t. I trust you Doc.”
But Carson can tell Sheppard is worried. Who wouldn’t be? As he stands up to sort equipment out, John stops him.
“Carson- the Gate’s still offline isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t explain that. I don’t remember doing anything! What about teams off world, are they….” he asks worried.
“It’s under control. Everyone is here or safe offworld. No-one’s been left in dire straights. Don’t fret. Rodney will sort it out, just you see.”
The Colonel sighs and then scowls, “I guess so.”
Seven hours later and Sheppard is lying on his side and the tube’s going down nice and easy. Carson’s team is keeping an eye on the Colonel’s vitals and on the camera images. There’s some redness, but that’s probably acid reflux. The tube carries on into the stomach, all seems normal until he turns it round. His eyes ping ponging between the screen and his hands steering the endoscope.
“Bloody Nora! What in hell’s that?! Am I imaginin’ that?”
“No doctor.”
“Get Rodney here, now! How in the hell didn’t we pick this up on our scans and X rays?”
The endoscope shows some kind of tiny device attached to the Colonel’s stomach wall. Gently Carson shifts the probe.
“Bloody thing’s got legs. It’s grabbed on. Oh, here. This is the problem, it’s torn the lining. I wonder…?” Another part of the scope has pincers for taking biopsy samples and he manoeuvres them to unpick the tiny claws off the wall and hold it in the grabbers. He gently begins to pull the endoscope back out, keeping a worried eye on the monitors in case Sheppard suddenly crashes.
He orders his team away in case something happens as it comes out into the air. He grabs a sample dish and hastily drops the bug and clamps the lid on tight. Would the air stop it or activate it? He wonders if he should add water or alcohol as he peers in at the plastic dish.
Rodney comes in complaining and almost turns round again when he sees Carson gowned up and the endoscope in one hand.
“Oh my God! It’s Frankenstein! What did you find?”
“This!” Beckett waves the slightly bloody lump at him.
“Urggh! That was in Sheppard? I don’t want to look at body parts, you sheep loving voodoo priest!”
“No, you wazzock! Take a closer look.” One of his nurses takes the endoscope from him, and he turns to check on Sheppard as Rodney examines the tiny device.
“Oh crap!” Rodney yells “Who’s going to tell Sheppard he was right? I think it may be a tracker!”
“Lovely, that can be your job.”
“No, wait! We could all be blown up by then!”
“By who?
“That’s the $63 million dollar question isn’t it?!”
The Infirmary lights dip low and then surge, there’s a slight rumble and a faint far off zinging sound.
“What’s that?” Beckett asks staring around.
“Oh, god we’re all going to die!” Rodney clicks his earpiece “Radek…”
“I don’t know how or why but the force shield is up.”
“What! Over the infirmary?”
“No- whole city!”
“Are we detecting anything in space near us?”
“No, and the sensors are stretching really far out.”
“Look I’ve got to go back in and repair that tear before it perforates and causes peritonitis and flush with antibiotics. You deal with this.” Beckett returns to his patient and the nurse handing him a newly sterilised endoscope.
He doesn’t know when Rodney leaves, only that he’s not there when he’s done and his team are wheeling Colonel Sheppard to the recovery area. He watches as the nurses clean him up and leave him propped up on his side, monitors beeping in a soothing rhythm until he wakes up. Only then does he un-gown and clean himself up.
0o0
It seems like all he does is wake up uncomfortable and wonder where he is and what’s going on. He lies on the bed and gathers information. Bed. Infirmary. Oh, endo-thingy. No wonder his gut aches. He wonders what the doc found and he opens his eyes. For once he doesn’t feel quite as paranoid and the itch is hardly there. Tentatively he mentally reaches out for Atlantis; wanting reassurance that all is well despite the fact that he’s ruthlessly pushed her away and shouted off all the time.
What he feels is a deep thrum. Alert. Waiting. Patient. He sits up, attracting attention from the watchers posted round or near his bed.
“Guys?” he asks dry throated. Now he’s worried, not for the city but for himself. Is he dying? Beckett approaches and gives him some ice chips.
“Your throat’s going to be a little sore from the procedure.”
“So was it an ulcer…or..?”
“Not exactly…” Rodney starts.
“Someone going to explain why the shield’s up?”
“How do you know that?” asks Rodney sharply.
“Because Atlan...because… I can feel it, okay?”
“We’re running deep space scans, and the gate’s locked down anyway. Nothing in or out. We’re invisible and unreachable for now.”
“For how long?”
Rodney shrugs.
“What did you find?” John repeats, worried.
“Colonel, I didn’t find an ulcer.”
“Well that’s great Carson.” He grins until he sees the sober looks on their faces. “Isn’t it?”
“That depends. We did find this...” Rodney hands him a PADD with an enlarged image of some tiny metallic bug with tiny claws. Sheppard looks up puzzled then frantic.
“Whoa. No, no, no! I was right all along! My god, a tracker. We have to evacuate! We have to go now! Get Lorne!” he’s yelling, his voice scratchy and he’s ready to leap out of bed.
“Sheppard, calm down. It’s neutralised.” Rodney says curtly, waving the secure plastic container with the bug in.
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me. On short acquaintance I cannot detect any signal pinging off into outer space.”
“Where did you find it?” John looks at Carson.
“In your stomach. The wee beastie has an enteric coating just like or similar to oral medicines. On pills it means they survive in the stomach and avoid being digested too early where the stomach acid pH is low. The coating breaks down in the more alkaline or higher pH of the duodenum and the pay load is more effective. This was just designed to stay put, maybe for a specific time and then drop off and die, we don’t yet know. But the coating was causing you an allergic reaction and the claws had begun to tear your stomach lining wall, causing your discomfort and nausea. I’ll put you on meds and keep an eye on things, but you should start to feel a bit better. I also wonder if it was also causing your agitation.”
“How did I get it? It’s too big to be injected, right?”
“You must have swallowed it.”
“Surely I would have remembered that, unless….”
‘Make him drink this; the new buyer doesn’t want him fading away!’ A leather tankard appears and he drinks a sweet, very pithy fruit juice. He’s left alone for a while.
“Who would have the ability to make this or even want to?”
“Hoffan survivors?”
He’s tied to the hard chair, can’t move his hands but his body can sense the presence of Ancient technology even through the mush of the drugs and the ache from being punched once or twice. Sometimes it seeks him out friendly-like. OFF,off, please! Too late, there’s a split second flash and then it obeys.
‘The buyer will be pleased you’ve proved your ability and identity.’
‘We think he’s maybe more valuable than you first said’
‘I don’t think he will pay more than we’ve agreed’
‘When he comes tomorrow we can ask him, until then he’s yours to play with’
Sheppard spends a lot of time trying not to initiate Ancient tech. They don’t believe him when he says some of them are broken, never worked. They want weapons, bombs, spy drones.
Sheppard opens his eyes, having shut them as the flashback slams into him. Panting he says with effort “Genii,”
“Those conniving wee bastards!” Beckett says angrily, seething.
“We found this and we know what they’ve done. We can find this again,” Rodney assures them.
“We can’t stick tubes down everyone who comes back through the gate. Or stop people from eating and drinking off world!” splutters Beckett.
“Couldn’t we take a pill or drink something to neutralise it inside the body?” Rodney suggests.
“Maybe.”
“What if they don’t find us and they give up on it?” Ronon suggests.
“We can’t stay like this forever- we haven’t enough power and we need supplies. They could still track the Daedalus.” John says.
“Look, Atlantis initiated the protocol. So she can end it when she’s happy the situation is resolved. Not like we can do anything else. Sheppard’s okay for now, that should cheer her up.” Rodney says, then stops. “What?!”
“You just anthropomorphized the city…” Beckett grins.
Sheppard lays back and listens to the battle of words rage above him. A gentle hand on his good hand brings him back.
“John, are you alright?”
“It’s not everyday your worst fears come true.” he answers bitterly.
“I am sure they will work something out. Is something else bothering you?” she asks.
“Yeah how did I get back here, if I was drugged up with a tracker and took out my subQT?”
“Well, much as I’d love to repeat old history- I have more testing to do on this. See if I can get a signature from it that we can track off world. I’ll let you know what I find. We’ve only just begun to look at it,” Rodney says in a rush and then leaves.
“Are you sure you want to hear this right now?” Beckett steps closer, concerned.
John nods. “When exactly is a good time?” He stares at Ronon for answers.
“Lorne’s team bumped into a trader from Kisor looking for Lanteans. They had your dog tags. He feared the worst until they said they needed urgent medical help for you. You had a bad head injury and had been unconscious for too long.”
Sheppard lightly touches the left side of his face- the bust cheekbone and gash over his eye.
“Where did they find me?”
“In the woods, but you had been in a fight with two off-worlders they suspected of theft and killed them but not before getting hurt.”
“I don’t know Kisor. How did I get there?”
“We can only guess. You were running from the ones who drugged and hurt you.” Teyla says quietly, offering him more water.
“The first ones thought they’d get more money for me because I wasn’t like the others from M9. They knocked me out and when I came round I was somewhere else with different bad guys. They were the ones who had another buyer- maybe Kolya?”
He sucked in a shaky breath as he tried to put everything together.
“Take it easy, Colonel.”
“No, I have to know. It’s okay. They tried to get me to operate Ancient gizmos, but I wouldn’t, so that’s why they used the drugs: to try and make me. I remember cutting the subQT out because I heard them say they’d just follow me home. But now I’m not sure if that was real or imagined. Either way I was pretty freaked. Someone important was coming the next day and I had to get out.”
“We found the house and the cellar where you were held, but you were long gone. Someone had killed the rest of the guys afterwards.”
“They chased me to the gate, I remember that and dried leaves on the next place. After that I needed shoes, food and water. I wasn’t coming back here and I couldn’t go the alpha sites or other well-known places in case they found me again. Heck, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“It is remarkable that you achieved what you did. If not for the head injury, the drugs would have worn off and you could have discretely contacted us or whoever to come and get you.” Beckett says shaking his head in frustration.
“So what now?”
“You rest and eat some Jell-O. If you’re feeling alright you can go out in the wheel chair again, but no walking for another day or so.”
“What about the shield and the tracker thing?” he argues, still feeling conflicted about being in Atlantis.
“John, you say you can feel the shield and Atlantis. Why not trust what the city says to you? I am sure that Rodney and Radek will come up with something. Until then we must wait,” Teyla soothes.
“I don’t want to wait! What if…” he blurts, tired of not knowing.
“Sheppard. You’ve been here for five days, another few hours won’t hurt,” Ronon says, stopping his rant.
“Let’s hope not,” John mutters grumpily, sliding back onto his pillows. He grabs one handed for the comic book and mentally tunes everyone out as he flips the pages.
One by one, they leave. There’s nothing to do but wait for either the city to be attacked, for the bug to blow up- something, anything out of the ordinary. John has no idea.
He gives up re-reading the comic; Lorne promised him the next one. He closes his eyes and runs through the patched memories. Picking and tugging at the knots, trying to remember every word and sound and blurry face. He settles into a light doze and still feels the thrum of the shield. Atlantis did that for him.
‘Mine…ours…safe here…home now… always.’ The words brush softly in his head. Comforting.
He feels slightly embarrassed that the city seems to have reacted to his drugged out concussed worries. It’s never happened before. It can’t happen every time he gets in trouble off world.
The city does seem to miss him when he’s away though, he knows that. He once tried to ask Major Lorne if he felt different when he came back after a long time away. Lorne had just stared at him. All he’d said was “Just glad to get cleaned up, and out of my boots. Feels good to be back, sir.” John didn’t know if that meant that Lorne did feel a welcoming buzz and chatter of data, that his door opened quickly and the shower was at the right temperature, like he always did. He didn’t ask again.
He wonders what would happen if he got recalled permanently back to Earth, if he’d get withdrawal symptoms, or if Atlantis would.
Weird thoughts. Talking of weird, he wonders if Rodney’s made any progress, but it’s far too soon to ask.
An hour and a half later, he’s working his way through a Sudoku book he scrounged off one of the nurses when Beckett appears. He looks up expectantly.
“Rodney’s called everyone to meet here, he’s got some answers.”
John swallows, his heart beginning to speed up with worry.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Beckett reassures him, although he must be worried too.
Rodney rushes in after Elizabeth and his team have arranged themselves on chairs and beds nearby.
“The bug…” he begins.
“Can you not use that word?” John asks, scowling.
“Sorry. The tracker that Carson found in your stomach is not transmitting a signal.”
“That’s great news, Rodney,” Elizabeth enthuses.
Rodney raises a finger “Well, you’d like to think so wouldn’t you? But as far as we can determine, it never had the capability to do so.”
“What?” John shouts.
“I don’t understand,” says Teyla.
“I heard them say they’d follow me. They knew about the SubQT, about Ancient tech!”
“I know, I know. It was sneaky to get you to drink it unaware. And pure genius to get it to attach itself to your stomach wall and stay there for so long, although maybe it was too long. I’m not sure if there was a time factor involved, or the coating wore off too soon. I think Beckett’s right about the coating on it affecting you too, or maybe you were allergic. Either way you felt ill and the drugs made you super paranoid.”
“If the tracker never worked, then why plant it?”
“To play mind games, it’s actually quite crude when you look at its design in detail. It’s like they tried to copy one of those bugs- sorry !- Cold War spies used to put in phones or light switches. But this coating has mostly deteriorated and I don’t know if that had some specific effect on you or not,” Rodney thought out aloud.
“To see what I’d do, observed like some damn lab rat in a maze?” John is horrified, outraged.
Rodney shrugs and then nods, clearly not liking it any more than the rest of them.
“Did they hope it would turn out to be some kind of weapon? Like a Super Soldier only it backfired? Do you think they could make it work in the near future?” John has to know.
“That’s a possibility. But the problems with interactions and the added complication of the ATA gene that they were maybe hoping to piggy-back on to, failed completely. Their understanding of genetics is not advanced enough. Too many variables involved with species, signal boosting and being able to track over distance. The coating is unstable; the claws could dig too deep and cause a rupture killing the person. Unless, of course that’s what they wanted to do…” Rodney mused, oblivious to everyone’s horrified reaction to the last sentence.
John’s had enough. He throws the cover off his bed and starts to scoot off. “I’m going to the Chair with this thing in my hand and let Atlantis tell us for sure if it’s viable or not.”
“Hang on, just a wee second here. Did I say you could walk anywhere yet?” Beckett argues.
“No, but just watch me...”
Beckett huffs and drags the wheelchair out, “Fine, if you’re going at least use this. And I’m coming along to make sure you’re alright.”
“Me too,” Ronon adds. Teyla and Rodney also look determined and John mutters “Fine,” as he slides into the chair and begins to push himself along.
Rodney takes over. “Look, Radek and I have double checked. We looked in the ancient database too. I’m as sure as I can be that it never worked, and whoever made it will not be able to make it work.”
“Okay, I hear you- but I need this and I think the city does too.”
“Just get in there and sweet talk your girlfriend into giving control of her city back to us mere mortals would you? I hate to think of the power drain.”
Some minutes later and they’re in the Chair room. It’s familiar to John, the others less so. Before they can stop him, he stands upright and hop-shuffles to the Chair. It immediately glows bright white blue and tilts back.
More direct than the normal hum and buzz when he’s in the Chair, Atlantis ripples over and through him in a more visceral way. He’s never told Rodney that and doesn’t intend to. He feels like he’s being scanned, comforted and reassured all at the same time.
I’m alright.
“Rodney, give me the tracker,” he grunts, keeping his eyes closed. He flips his good hand in the gel pad and wiggles his fingers.
“Thank god, I thought you wanted to swallow it,” huffs Rodney as he places it in his palm.
John turns his hand over and waits. He doesn’t know why this should work more than Atlantis accessing their laptops and servers directly with Rodney’s research, but he does it anyway. It feels like the right thing to do. Data and images speed across his inner eye, comparing, rejecting and assimilating.
He knows exactly when the shield goes down and the Gate goes back online. There’s a rush of power and all he sees are1’s and 0’s, followed by a giddy feeling and a soft caress Safe now kisses across his nerve endings.
The thank you he manages seems hardly enough.
“That’s it?” he vaguely hears Rodney say.
“Yeah, that’s it,” John agrees. He opens his eyes, a little heady from the intensity of the session in the Chair. Beckett hovers as he hop shuffles unsteadily back to the waiting wheelchair.
“You want fanfares and rockets, Sheppard?” Rodney asks.
“Ferris wheels would be good.”
Rodney laughs as they return to the Infirmary. His team stays with him as he rests up and they have dinner together. This time he manages all of the soup and some bread. Progress at last, though he’d like to eat something that isn’t semi-liquid at some point in his future. Beckett says tomorrow if he’s still doing well and then asks him about the lingering headaches. He tries to reassure the Doc that they are beginning to lessen. Beckett stares back, and decides to believe him and gives his bandages tender feet a last check before bedtime. Finally he’s on his own again.
Almost over. Just the recovering to do, he thinks as he tries to get comfortable in the narrow bed.
He still hates the idea that it was all some sort of twisted sick game, that he was a test subject for a prototype that could never work, that he was a puppet, a toy.
He settles down, planning at least eleven different ways to kill Kolya before falling asleep. But that’s alright because he can think up more when he wakes, and after that Ronon can help him.
The itch is gone and when he’s fit enough to run, it’ll be with Ronon for exercise rather than because he has no idea what he’s doing. Or at least he hopes not.
END
Prompt: Some plotty Sheppard H/C would be nice, maybe with a feral Sheppard, or Sheppard having some kind of emotional breakdown with a side order of physical whump. Or a feral/military bad-a** Sheppard kicking butt and taking names, and again with a side order of physical whump ;) Bonus if there is torture and/or weight loss but not a must. Also a bonus if the whump is interesting. That is, (and this is just an example, not part of the request. But if you want to use the idea that is fine) rather than Sheppard merely shot, he's shot with a bullet that is slowly releasing some kind of toxin or that's a tracking device.
Category: SGA H/C Challenges Easter-fic 2010
Author: Roo1965
Story for: Kriadydragon
Season : 3 , after Common Ground but before Phantoms & The Return.
Summary : Sheppard’s lost and then found, but not happy to be back in Atlantis- why is that? Just because he’s paranoid, it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get him. Or does it? There’s also ShepLantis elements. Shep whump, h/c as standard. John and other POV’s. Gen
Word count: ~5,026 in this part
Word wrangling and Keeper of all things common sense: CoolBreeze1
GAMES WITHOUT FRONTIERS PART TWO
Carson arrives late to the emergency meeting that Elizabeth and Rodney called, wanting to get a full work up ordered on the Colonel before he left the infirmary. He walks in to a heated debate on whether Colonel Sheppard is responsible for the Gate going offline and whether there is anything deadly heading towards them from space.
No-one outright wants to admit or suggest that Atlantis may have something to do with it either, that the city is more than 1 and 0’s.
“Do we have any teams out or due back?”
“No, oddly enough everyone’s here, or on safe haven.”
“That was lucky.”
“Hmm, wasn’t it? I wonder…”
“Rodney-you think it’s the Colonel?”
“He’s a little wonky at present- but then so are some of the systems in Atlantis. But there is an interaction.”
Elizabeth looks sceptical
“You’re not suggesting that the city is sentient?”
Rodney makes a see-sawing motion with his hand as if undecided.
“There’s something different between Sheppard and the city since he got back, we can’t deny that. But I think it’s more push/pull than love at present. Maybe ‘she’s’,” he says, making finger air quotes “protecting Sheppard, or stopping him from leaving like he keeps saying he should.”
“What if he’s right?” Elizabeth asks, worried.
“What if he isn’t? What if that’s exactly what they want?” Rodney counters, straightening up in his seat.
“Can we recap on what we do know of his disappearance? Maybe we missed something?” Elizabeth suggests diplomatically, clearly not wanting to get into an argument.
Rodney disagrees “No, we may not have time for that. We need…”
“What? To wait for a Hive ship to appear? Or someone else? He wouldn’t.” Ronon asserts bluntly.
“Not willingly, no.” Rodney’s just saying what they all think, even though it’s a shocking idea when voiced in the open. Everyone looks a little uncomfortable, Lorne in particular. Carson knows he’s very loyal to his CO.
“From the beginning then…”
“Do we have to do this?” Rodney whines, “We weren’t with him; he was helping out SGA-7’s earth grubbing soft scientists! He went off to help some locals mend something and they didn’t notice the invading marauding bandits that took all the men for their slave trade!”
“Rodney, we can’t blame Dr. Mallard’s team.” Teyla soothes, but to Carson she and Ronon look like they are feeling just as guilty.
“Why not?” splutters Rodney.
“Anyway,” Elizabeth continues “He was taken along with the locals and you downloaded the list of gate addresses. Ronon and Teyla investigated potential neighbourhood disputes and rivalries that might shed some light. You searched several planets before finding his subQT in a cell on MX9228, but by then several days had passed.” Elizabeth summarised.
Rodney shivered. “Nothing left but the bodies of his captors and no sign of the other men that were taken with him.”
“I think Sheppard was separated from the men on M9 at some point along the way. The slavers or bounty hunters took him to MX9-228, where Sheppard managed to escape but I know he took out one or two of them when he went. Someone else came along later and tidied up. Different gun and techniques.” Ronon adds confidently.
“So, yes more addresses to sift through from MX9228,” Rodney picks up “I found the address where we think Sheppard went to when he escaped because he cancelled a glyph and started over. The log showed that. He knew enough, despite being high as a kite and chased and on the run, not to go where they expected him to. To hide. The cancelled glyph is the first in the Atlantis sequence- and yes I know all the permutations but it was Sheppard, I know it. He would never lead them back here or to any allies or alpha site.”
“He became a Runner….” Teyla says quietly. “When we got to the address Rodney thought John had gone to next, we did not find him, although we called out and searched. We found blood traces which Dr Beckett confirmed were his. We do not think he was there for long before moving on again.” Teyla continued.
Lorne leans forward, resting his elbows on the table “I sent teams out undercover and gathered as much intel as we could. There’s a lot of unrest out there, hive and wraith activity, rogue Genii, mercenaries, slavers, whole lot of nasties looking for healthy labour and maybe a ransom opportunity. That or they wanted him for the ATA gene. We picked up on some minor disturbances- stealing, fights that could have been the Colonel. It wasn’t until I was on Kisor that I heard whispers of someone wanting to meet Lanteans discreetly. We verified credentials and they were legit and on our side as far as we could tell from our other allies.” Lorne nodded at Ronon and Teyla in thanks. “I thought the worst when the guy said they’d got a body and then they gave me his dogtags. You know the rest.”
“Doctor Beckett would you like to add to the story?”
“Well, he put up a fight when they took him. At some point he took some blows to his back and stomach resulting in bruised kidneys. He was tied up by the hands, had his shoes and jacket removed and he was drugged- common ones easily available on several worlds. It’s just the amount and combination that caused him problems. They can cause paranoia and hallucinations. Coupled with the stress of escaping, being on the run and acquiring a fractured cheekbone and another head injury towards the end have accumulated into the very stressed, dehydrated and painful condition that he is now suffering from.”
“Will he recover?” Elizabeth pushes. Carson doesn’t envy her having to keep the SGC at bay. The Daedalus was almost back to Earth. At least it meant Col. Caldwell was out of the picture for now. By the time they returned to the Pegasus Galaxy Colonel Sheppard would be well on the way to recovery.
“Yes, but it will take some time and he has to have bed rest- his feet for starters. There’s no way he should be transferred to Earth, even if the Gate was working- I won’t allow it, and Kate agrees with me. I know he’s stressed out about being followed with tracking devices and everything. But he’s with friends here. He can recuperate on the mainland later if that’s what he wants. He needs to put on a few more pounds before I’ll allow that.”
“That’s the line I was taking and the SGC were offering help, not recalling him, the last time I spoke with General Landry,” Elizabeth reassures the group.
“It’s not over yet. Colonel Sheppard is remembering and he needs to tell us in his own time. Everything’s still jumbled and it’s painful and traumatic for him. Yes, he’s been captured before. But the drugs and head injuries are making him question his belief in himself. The not knowing is going to eat away at him.”
“Why?”
“Because Colonel Sheppard likes control and order and he lost that nearly three weeks ago. Being bed bound is only reinforcing that. That was why I allowed the wheelchair earlier.”
“That is good news of a sort. We shall be there to help,” Teyla says with a small smile.
“I was hoping he’d gain more weight before I let him back to his room under supervision. That’s not going to happen just yet.”
“Is that all Carson?” Elizabeth asks, wanting to wrap the meeting up.
“No, I’m afraid there’s something else- I think he’s heading for a stomach ulcer or something similar. I’m stopping his food and water so I can do an endoscopy tomorrow morning to see what’s going on.”
“But what about all those scans and X-rays you’ve done?” Rodney bursts out, surprised.
“They won’t show that. If the endoscopy doesn’t work then maybe a barium meal will, but let’s hope it won’t come to that. Excuse me; I’d like to get back to the Colonel now.”
0o0
Carson pulls over a chair and explains the situation to the Colonel.
“I hate to stop your food and water for the next 6 hours, but it’s the only way to get good results for the endoscopy.”
“Good luck looking at my innards. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone, Doc.”
“Aye, don’t thank me just yet. Your recent stomach troubles showed blood and that’s not good. The procedure should take about half an hour. I have to pass this lighted tube down your oesophagus.”
“I’m not going to be awake for this am I?”
“No, I’ll give you some pain relief and a sedative. It’s the best way to see what’s going on. I expect it’s just an ulcer or maybe a blockage. But we can sort those out right enough. Don’t you worry.”
“I won’t. I trust you Doc.”
But Carson can tell Sheppard is worried. Who wouldn’t be? As he stands up to sort equipment out, John stops him.
“Carson- the Gate’s still offline isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t explain that. I don’t remember doing anything! What about teams off world, are they….” he asks worried.
“It’s under control. Everyone is here or safe offworld. No-one’s been left in dire straights. Don’t fret. Rodney will sort it out, just you see.”
The Colonel sighs and then scowls, “I guess so.”
Seven hours later and Sheppard is lying on his side and the tube’s going down nice and easy. Carson’s team is keeping an eye on the Colonel’s vitals and on the camera images. There’s some redness, but that’s probably acid reflux. The tube carries on into the stomach, all seems normal until he turns it round. His eyes ping ponging between the screen and his hands steering the endoscope.
“Bloody Nora! What in hell’s that?! Am I imaginin’ that?”
“No doctor.”
“Get Rodney here, now! How in the hell didn’t we pick this up on our scans and X rays?”
The endoscope shows some kind of tiny device attached to the Colonel’s stomach wall. Gently Carson shifts the probe.
“Bloody thing’s got legs. It’s grabbed on. Oh, here. This is the problem, it’s torn the lining. I wonder…?” Another part of the scope has pincers for taking biopsy samples and he manoeuvres them to unpick the tiny claws off the wall and hold it in the grabbers. He gently begins to pull the endoscope back out, keeping a worried eye on the monitors in case Sheppard suddenly crashes.
He orders his team away in case something happens as it comes out into the air. He grabs a sample dish and hastily drops the bug and clamps the lid on tight. Would the air stop it or activate it? He wonders if he should add water or alcohol as he peers in at the plastic dish.
Rodney comes in complaining and almost turns round again when he sees Carson gowned up and the endoscope in one hand.
“Oh my God! It’s Frankenstein! What did you find?”
“This!” Beckett waves the slightly bloody lump at him.
“Urggh! That was in Sheppard? I don’t want to look at body parts, you sheep loving voodoo priest!”
“No, you wazzock! Take a closer look.” One of his nurses takes the endoscope from him, and he turns to check on Sheppard as Rodney examines the tiny device.
“Oh crap!” Rodney yells “Who’s going to tell Sheppard he was right? I think it may be a tracker!”
“Lovely, that can be your job.”
“No, wait! We could all be blown up by then!”
“By who?
“That’s the $63 million dollar question isn’t it?!”
The Infirmary lights dip low and then surge, there’s a slight rumble and a faint far off zinging sound.
“What’s that?” Beckett asks staring around.
“Oh, god we’re all going to die!” Rodney clicks his earpiece “Radek…”
“I don’t know how or why but the force shield is up.”
“What! Over the infirmary?”
“No- whole city!”
“Are we detecting anything in space near us?”
“No, and the sensors are stretching really far out.”
“Look I’ve got to go back in and repair that tear before it perforates and causes peritonitis and flush with antibiotics. You deal with this.” Beckett returns to his patient and the nurse handing him a newly sterilised endoscope.
He doesn’t know when Rodney leaves, only that he’s not there when he’s done and his team are wheeling Colonel Sheppard to the recovery area. He watches as the nurses clean him up and leave him propped up on his side, monitors beeping in a soothing rhythm until he wakes up. Only then does he un-gown and clean himself up.
0o0
It seems like all he does is wake up uncomfortable and wonder where he is and what’s going on. He lies on the bed and gathers information. Bed. Infirmary. Oh, endo-thingy. No wonder his gut aches. He wonders what the doc found and he opens his eyes. For once he doesn’t feel quite as paranoid and the itch is hardly there. Tentatively he mentally reaches out for Atlantis; wanting reassurance that all is well despite the fact that he’s ruthlessly pushed her away and shouted off all the time.
What he feels is a deep thrum. Alert. Waiting. Patient. He sits up, attracting attention from the watchers posted round or near his bed.
“Guys?” he asks dry throated. Now he’s worried, not for the city but for himself. Is he dying? Beckett approaches and gives him some ice chips.
“Your throat’s going to be a little sore from the procedure.”
“So was it an ulcer…or..?”
“Not exactly…” Rodney starts.
“Someone going to explain why the shield’s up?”
“How do you know that?” asks Rodney sharply.
“Because Atlan...because… I can feel it, okay?”
“We’re running deep space scans, and the gate’s locked down anyway. Nothing in or out. We’re invisible and unreachable for now.”
“For how long?”
Rodney shrugs.
“What did you find?” John repeats, worried.
“Colonel, I didn’t find an ulcer.”
“Well that’s great Carson.” He grins until he sees the sober looks on their faces. “Isn’t it?”
“That depends. We did find this...” Rodney hands him a PADD with an enlarged image of some tiny metallic bug with tiny claws. Sheppard looks up puzzled then frantic.
“Whoa. No, no, no! I was right all along! My god, a tracker. We have to evacuate! We have to go now! Get Lorne!” he’s yelling, his voice scratchy and he’s ready to leap out of bed.
“Sheppard, calm down. It’s neutralised.” Rodney says curtly, waving the secure plastic container with the bug in.
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me. On short acquaintance I cannot detect any signal pinging off into outer space.”
“Where did you find it?” John looks at Carson.
“In your stomach. The wee beastie has an enteric coating just like or similar to oral medicines. On pills it means they survive in the stomach and avoid being digested too early where the stomach acid pH is low. The coating breaks down in the more alkaline or higher pH of the duodenum and the pay load is more effective. This was just designed to stay put, maybe for a specific time and then drop off and die, we don’t yet know. But the coating was causing you an allergic reaction and the claws had begun to tear your stomach lining wall, causing your discomfort and nausea. I’ll put you on meds and keep an eye on things, but you should start to feel a bit better. I also wonder if it was also causing your agitation.”
“How did I get it? It’s too big to be injected, right?”
“You must have swallowed it.”
“Surely I would have remembered that, unless….”
‘Make him drink this; the new buyer doesn’t want him fading away!’ A leather tankard appears and he drinks a sweet, very pithy fruit juice. He’s left alone for a while.
“Who would have the ability to make this or even want to?”
“Hoffan survivors?”
He’s tied to the hard chair, can’t move his hands but his body can sense the presence of Ancient technology even through the mush of the drugs and the ache from being punched once or twice. Sometimes it seeks him out friendly-like. OFF,off, please! Too late, there’s a split second flash and then it obeys.
‘The buyer will be pleased you’ve proved your ability and identity.’
‘We think he’s maybe more valuable than you first said’
‘I don’t think he will pay more than we’ve agreed’
‘When he comes tomorrow we can ask him, until then he’s yours to play with’
Sheppard spends a lot of time trying not to initiate Ancient tech. They don’t believe him when he says some of them are broken, never worked. They want weapons, bombs, spy drones.
Sheppard opens his eyes, having shut them as the flashback slams into him. Panting he says with effort “Genii,”
“Those conniving wee bastards!” Beckett says angrily, seething.
“We found this and we know what they’ve done. We can find this again,” Rodney assures them.
“We can’t stick tubes down everyone who comes back through the gate. Or stop people from eating and drinking off world!” splutters Beckett.
“Couldn’t we take a pill or drink something to neutralise it inside the body?” Rodney suggests.
“Maybe.”
“What if they don’t find us and they give up on it?” Ronon suggests.
“We can’t stay like this forever- we haven’t enough power and we need supplies. They could still track the Daedalus.” John says.
“Look, Atlantis initiated the protocol. So she can end it when she’s happy the situation is resolved. Not like we can do anything else. Sheppard’s okay for now, that should cheer her up.” Rodney says, then stops. “What?!”
“You just anthropomorphized the city…” Beckett grins.
Sheppard lays back and listens to the battle of words rage above him. A gentle hand on his good hand brings him back.
“John, are you alright?”
“It’s not everyday your worst fears come true.” he answers bitterly.
“I am sure they will work something out. Is something else bothering you?” she asks.
“Yeah how did I get back here, if I was drugged up with a tracker and took out my subQT?”
“Well, much as I’d love to repeat old history- I have more testing to do on this. See if I can get a signature from it that we can track off world. I’ll let you know what I find. We’ve only just begun to look at it,” Rodney says in a rush and then leaves.
“Are you sure you want to hear this right now?” Beckett steps closer, concerned.
John nods. “When exactly is a good time?” He stares at Ronon for answers.
“Lorne’s team bumped into a trader from Kisor looking for Lanteans. They had your dog tags. He feared the worst until they said they needed urgent medical help for you. You had a bad head injury and had been unconscious for too long.”
Sheppard lightly touches the left side of his face- the bust cheekbone and gash over his eye.
“Where did they find me?”
“In the woods, but you had been in a fight with two off-worlders they suspected of theft and killed them but not before getting hurt.”
“I don’t know Kisor. How did I get there?”
“We can only guess. You were running from the ones who drugged and hurt you.” Teyla says quietly, offering him more water.
“The first ones thought they’d get more money for me because I wasn’t like the others from M9. They knocked me out and when I came round I was somewhere else with different bad guys. They were the ones who had another buyer- maybe Kolya?”
He sucked in a shaky breath as he tried to put everything together.
“Take it easy, Colonel.”
“No, I have to know. It’s okay. They tried to get me to operate Ancient gizmos, but I wouldn’t, so that’s why they used the drugs: to try and make me. I remember cutting the subQT out because I heard them say they’d just follow me home. But now I’m not sure if that was real or imagined. Either way I was pretty freaked. Someone important was coming the next day and I had to get out.”
“We found the house and the cellar where you were held, but you were long gone. Someone had killed the rest of the guys afterwards.”
“They chased me to the gate, I remember that and dried leaves on the next place. After that I needed shoes, food and water. I wasn’t coming back here and I couldn’t go the alpha sites or other well-known places in case they found me again. Heck, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“It is remarkable that you achieved what you did. If not for the head injury, the drugs would have worn off and you could have discretely contacted us or whoever to come and get you.” Beckett says shaking his head in frustration.
“So what now?”
“You rest and eat some Jell-O. If you’re feeling alright you can go out in the wheel chair again, but no walking for another day or so.”
“What about the shield and the tracker thing?” he argues, still feeling conflicted about being in Atlantis.
“John, you say you can feel the shield and Atlantis. Why not trust what the city says to you? I am sure that Rodney and Radek will come up with something. Until then we must wait,” Teyla soothes.
“I don’t want to wait! What if…” he blurts, tired of not knowing.
“Sheppard. You’ve been here for five days, another few hours won’t hurt,” Ronon says, stopping his rant.
“Let’s hope not,” John mutters grumpily, sliding back onto his pillows. He grabs one handed for the comic book and mentally tunes everyone out as he flips the pages.
One by one, they leave. There’s nothing to do but wait for either the city to be attacked, for the bug to blow up- something, anything out of the ordinary. John has no idea.
He gives up re-reading the comic; Lorne promised him the next one. He closes his eyes and runs through the patched memories. Picking and tugging at the knots, trying to remember every word and sound and blurry face. He settles into a light doze and still feels the thrum of the shield. Atlantis did that for him.
‘Mine…ours…safe here…home now… always.’ The words brush softly in his head. Comforting.
He feels slightly embarrassed that the city seems to have reacted to his drugged out concussed worries. It’s never happened before. It can’t happen every time he gets in trouble off world.
The city does seem to miss him when he’s away though, he knows that. He once tried to ask Major Lorne if he felt different when he came back after a long time away. Lorne had just stared at him. All he’d said was “Just glad to get cleaned up, and out of my boots. Feels good to be back, sir.” John didn’t know if that meant that Lorne did feel a welcoming buzz and chatter of data, that his door opened quickly and the shower was at the right temperature, like he always did. He didn’t ask again.
He wonders what would happen if he got recalled permanently back to Earth, if he’d get withdrawal symptoms, or if Atlantis would.
Weird thoughts. Talking of weird, he wonders if Rodney’s made any progress, but it’s far too soon to ask.
An hour and a half later, he’s working his way through a Sudoku book he scrounged off one of the nurses when Beckett appears. He looks up expectantly.
“Rodney’s called everyone to meet here, he’s got some answers.”
John swallows, his heart beginning to speed up with worry.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Beckett reassures him, although he must be worried too.
Rodney rushes in after Elizabeth and his team have arranged themselves on chairs and beds nearby.
“The bug…” he begins.
“Can you not use that word?” John asks, scowling.
“Sorry. The tracker that Carson found in your stomach is not transmitting a signal.”
“That’s great news, Rodney,” Elizabeth enthuses.
Rodney raises a finger “Well, you’d like to think so wouldn’t you? But as far as we can determine, it never had the capability to do so.”
“What?” John shouts.
“I don’t understand,” says Teyla.
“I heard them say they’d follow me. They knew about the SubQT, about Ancient tech!”
“I know, I know. It was sneaky to get you to drink it unaware. And pure genius to get it to attach itself to your stomach wall and stay there for so long, although maybe it was too long. I’m not sure if there was a time factor involved, or the coating wore off too soon. I think Beckett’s right about the coating on it affecting you too, or maybe you were allergic. Either way you felt ill and the drugs made you super paranoid.”
“If the tracker never worked, then why plant it?”
“To play mind games, it’s actually quite crude when you look at its design in detail. It’s like they tried to copy one of those bugs- sorry !- Cold War spies used to put in phones or light switches. But this coating has mostly deteriorated and I don’t know if that had some specific effect on you or not,” Rodney thought out aloud.
“To see what I’d do, observed like some damn lab rat in a maze?” John is horrified, outraged.
Rodney shrugs and then nods, clearly not liking it any more than the rest of them.
“Did they hope it would turn out to be some kind of weapon? Like a Super Soldier only it backfired? Do you think they could make it work in the near future?” John has to know.
“That’s a possibility. But the problems with interactions and the added complication of the ATA gene that they were maybe hoping to piggy-back on to, failed completely. Their understanding of genetics is not advanced enough. Too many variables involved with species, signal boosting and being able to track over distance. The coating is unstable; the claws could dig too deep and cause a rupture killing the person. Unless, of course that’s what they wanted to do…” Rodney mused, oblivious to everyone’s horrified reaction to the last sentence.
John’s had enough. He throws the cover off his bed and starts to scoot off. “I’m going to the Chair with this thing in my hand and let Atlantis tell us for sure if it’s viable or not.”
“Hang on, just a wee second here. Did I say you could walk anywhere yet?” Beckett argues.
“No, but just watch me...”
Beckett huffs and drags the wheelchair out, “Fine, if you’re going at least use this. And I’m coming along to make sure you’re alright.”
“Me too,” Ronon adds. Teyla and Rodney also look determined and John mutters “Fine,” as he slides into the chair and begins to push himself along.
Rodney takes over. “Look, Radek and I have double checked. We looked in the ancient database too. I’m as sure as I can be that it never worked, and whoever made it will not be able to make it work.”
“Okay, I hear you- but I need this and I think the city does too.”
“Just get in there and sweet talk your girlfriend into giving control of her city back to us mere mortals would you? I hate to think of the power drain.”
Some minutes later and they’re in the Chair room. It’s familiar to John, the others less so. Before they can stop him, he stands upright and hop-shuffles to the Chair. It immediately glows bright white blue and tilts back.
More direct than the normal hum and buzz when he’s in the Chair, Atlantis ripples over and through him in a more visceral way. He’s never told Rodney that and doesn’t intend to. He feels like he’s being scanned, comforted and reassured all at the same time.
I’m alright.
“Rodney, give me the tracker,” he grunts, keeping his eyes closed. He flips his good hand in the gel pad and wiggles his fingers.
“Thank god, I thought you wanted to swallow it,” huffs Rodney as he places it in his palm.
John turns his hand over and waits. He doesn’t know why this should work more than Atlantis accessing their laptops and servers directly with Rodney’s research, but he does it anyway. It feels like the right thing to do. Data and images speed across his inner eye, comparing, rejecting and assimilating.
He knows exactly when the shield goes down and the Gate goes back online. There’s a rush of power and all he sees are1’s and 0’s, followed by a giddy feeling and a soft caress Safe now kisses across his nerve endings.
The thank you he manages seems hardly enough.
“That’s it?” he vaguely hears Rodney say.
“Yeah, that’s it,” John agrees. He opens his eyes, a little heady from the intensity of the session in the Chair. Beckett hovers as he hop shuffles unsteadily back to the waiting wheelchair.
“You want fanfares and rockets, Sheppard?” Rodney asks.
“Ferris wheels would be good.”
Rodney laughs as they return to the Infirmary. His team stays with him as he rests up and they have dinner together. This time he manages all of the soup and some bread. Progress at last, though he’d like to eat something that isn’t semi-liquid at some point in his future. Beckett says tomorrow if he’s still doing well and then asks him about the lingering headaches. He tries to reassure the Doc that they are beginning to lessen. Beckett stares back, and decides to believe him and gives his bandages tender feet a last check before bedtime. Finally he’s on his own again.
Almost over. Just the recovering to do, he thinks as he tries to get comfortable in the narrow bed.
He still hates the idea that it was all some sort of twisted sick game, that he was a test subject for a prototype that could never work, that he was a puppet, a toy.
He settles down, planning at least eleven different ways to kill Kolya before falling asleep. But that’s alright because he can think up more when he wakes, and after that Ronon can help him.
The itch is gone and when he’s fit enough to run, it’ll be with Ronon for exercise rather than because he has no idea what he’s doing. Or at least he hopes not.
END
Prompt: Some plotty Sheppard H/C would be nice, maybe with a feral Sheppard, or Sheppard having some kind of emotional breakdown with a side order of physical whump. Or a feral/military bad-a** Sheppard kicking butt and taking names, and again with a side order of physical whump ;) Bonus if there is torture and/or weight loss but not a must. Also a bonus if the whump is interesting. That is, (and this is just an example, not part of the request. But if you want to use the idea that is fine) rather than Sheppard merely shot, he's shot with a bullet that is slowly releasing some kind of toxin or that's a tracking device.