Angst, Week 3: To Lay Down

[sholio]

Title: To Lay Down
Author: pansychubb (LilRicki)
Prompt: Self-sacrifice
Word Count: ~4000
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: Dark and nonlinear in parts. Spoilers through early Season 4.
Summary: John is taught that some sacrifices are worse than others.



To Lay Down

When John was a freshman in college, a girl in his physics class invited him to one of her club's meetings, and since she was attractive and John was a hot-blooded young male, he agreed. It wasn't until he was being instructed to open his Bible to John chapter fifteen that he realized he probably wouldn't be getting anything more than a kiss out of the girl any time soon.

She hadn't tricked him; he'd just been distracted by her many fine assets and it hadn't sunk in that it was a church organization until it was too late. Not that he had anything against religion; it was just that the church hadn't been a big part of his family's life since his mom died, and the last time he'd set foot in a chapel had been to say goodbye to her casket.

Still, it wasn't as awkward as it could have been. There were about twenty students in attendance, and the leader was an older-but-still-young-enough-to-be-cool man who spoke with passion to the group in the circle of chairs (John was vaguely relieved at the absence of pews). If anything, the girl who had invited John seemed to be the nervous one, glancing at him occasionally to gauge his reaction to the speaker's words.

"So," the leader said about half an hour later in what was obviously the beginning of his wrap-up, "what does Christ mean when he says that we should love each other as He loved us?"

Sensing the end of the meeting approaching, John tuned back into the discussion in time to hear one of the students at the far end of the circle mumble something that sounded like "dying to save others."

"Yeah," the leader replied with a quirk of his lips. "Like it says in the very next verse: 'Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.'"

The memory and a different, silent, cold voice flitted through John's consciousness.

But you've already done that, haven't you, John?

He grunted as another memory assaulted him - the hiveship looming in the 'jumper window, the nuclear devices strapped securely behind him, the dart bay opening wide like a gaping maw –

Such sacrifice, the voice sneered, harsh and disdainful. If those words are true, then you must love them very much, John.

John gasped as faces – family, friends, Atlantis – flickered before him like an old film. It made him nauseous and he wanted to open his eyes, but couldn't remember how.

What else would you sacrifice for them, John?

A steady ache was growing in John's temples, throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat. His wrists pulled against something unyielding, and he wondered what the warmth dripping on his fingers was.

Yes, John, you think you love them enough to lay down your life.

The unpleasant sensation of a corkscrew burrowing into his head turned into a sharp grinding and then a blinding pain, making his breathing ragged and shallow. A pulsing sting traveled up his leg as he involuntarily kicked out and his toes met something solid and unmoving.

But it's not the same, John.

Abruptly, the agony stopped. John sagged, though he couldn't tell against what. Something hard dug into his wrists again.

You didn't lay down your life. You gave them your death.

A cool darkness began to descend on him, drawing him upward and away until his body was nothing more than a distant sensation. Breathing deeply, he couldn't seem to remember why that was such a relief. Floating there, in nothingness, the voice spoke again.

It's not the same.

And for the first time, John thought to wonder where the voiceless words came from, but then a Wraith stunner blast hit the building just over his shoulder and he turned his attention to spraying P-90 fire into the forest.

"I could really use some help out here, guys!" he shouted into his radio, ducking as more pale figures darted through the trees and the echo of It's not the same faded from his mind.

"We are trying, John," Teyla's strained tones wafted over the radio. "This part of the outpost is in some sort of lockdown."

"The door's completely fried!" Rodney's strident voice joined Teyla's. "I think the dissemination protocols caused an unexpected power surge."

"Can you fix it?" Ronon grumbled over the radio, and John missed the beginning of Rodney's answer as he took down another Wraith making its way to the building.

" – proper tools, of course, but those idiots started messing with the quarantine subsystems, so that probably means that - "

"How long, McKay?" Ronon interrupted. Again, Sheppard missed Rodney's reply when he felt the tingling of a stunner blast whizzing just by his ear. By the time Ronon spoke again, John had taken cover behind a crumbling stone wall to check his life signs detector.

"Can you hold out that long, Sheppard?" John took Ronon's growl to mean he was displeased with the time frame the astrophysicist had given him.

John glanced at the detector's display. "Oh crap," he breathed as half a dozen more red dots appeared and advanced on his lone one. Grimacing, he spoke into his radio. "I'll try."

"McKay." Ronon's menacing rumble let John know that his attempt to hide his dire situation from the runner had completely failed.

"Threats don't make me work faster," Rodney sing-songed under his breath.

"Yes they do." Sheppard's lip twitched at the Satedan's deadpan reply.

"John, is there anything we can do?"

"Just get yourselves out of there as soon as you can, Teyla." John checked his detector again. "I've got six Wraith coming from the . . ." John's voice trailed off. "Huh."

"Huh? What does he mean 'huh'? Is that some kind of caveman military jargon?"

"Less talk, more work, McKay."

"I am perfectly capable of multitasking, Conan, unlike some who - "

"Actually," John interrupted loudly before things could escalate, "it looks like all our friends are leaving." The red dots were definitely moving away from his own white dot. He swore he could hear Ronon's disappointed scowl at the missed chance to kill Wraith. "Think they got a taste of the talu?"

"Well if I were a Wraith and I'd just found out a bunch of my buddies had died a horrific death from nerve gas exposure, I'd hightail it out of here, too."

"So the Wraith that breached the walls are dead?"

"If they were inside the facility when the Tamales flooded it with the agent, then yes."

"Tamelans, Rodney," Teyla said with the barest hint of exasperation. "The people of this planet are called Tamelans."

"Well they're morons, whatever they're called."

"So the stuff works on Wraith, too," John mused loudly, again cutting off an argument before it could start. He made his way to the front of the complex, keeping one eye on the forest and one on the detector.

"So does sarin gas," Rodney scoffed, "but that doesn't mean we're gonna start using it in Pegasus."

"John," Teyla interrupted smoothly, "are any of the Tamelans with you?"

"Nope," John drawled, "looks like they got one look at the results of their little science experiment and ran for the hills." John grimaced. "Which is actually what I'd like to do. Any way to speed this up, Rodney? We can send a hazmat team back later when we've given the all clear."

"Hmm, yes, already thought of that, but the auxiliary control room with the manual door override wasn't one of the protected rooms. You'd have to wait until the Ancient systems scrubbed the air clean, but by then I'll have the door open, so what's the point, huh?"

"Well, hurry it up." Sheppard glanced warily at the door he'd finally reached, knowing the hall behind it led directly to the room in question. "I don't wanna be here if the Wraith decide to come back." Or bomb this place from orbit, he didn't say out loud.

"Then quit distracting me. How am I supposed to work if - "

"McKay." Something in Ronon's voice froze John in his tracks.

"What?" There was a pause. "Oh, crap . . ."

"Guys?"

"Ronon, don't!" Teyla cried.

"No no no, stay here! As far away as you can!" McKay snapped in panic.

"We have to shut it!" Ronon growled in reply.

"You'll only get yourself killed!"

"Then how do we stop it!?"

"Guys!" Sheppard called with increasing alarm. "What's going on?"

"One of the vents at the far end of this room has begun emitting talu," Teyla stated in her matter-of-fact way. "It is a small amount, but it is not slowing."

John closed his eyes and imagined the sickening sight of the orange smoke pouring out of the wall, imagined watching their death creeping closer and closer. "McKay."

"Working on it," Rodney gritted. "The Tamales must have screwed around with the containment systems, because there's – agh!"

Sheppard heard the snap of an electrical shock over the airwaves. "Rodney!" He let out a relieved breath when the sound of cursing followed shortly after.

"The door controls will not respond," Teyla said, worry bleeding through her calm façade. "It is a very large room, but the gas is disseminating quickly."

Sheppard snapped to a decision. "I'm gonna trigger the manual override. Get ready to run."

"What?" Rodney's sharp tone didn't slow Sheppard as he pulled a bandana from his vest and tied it around his mouth and nose. "Are you insane? The scrubbers haven't finished! And even if they've cleaned enough away to not kill you instantly, even a few parts per million of this stuff could cause permanent damage!"

"Exactly why I have to do this before that much gets into your lungs," John replied, slipping on his sunglasses and desperately not thinking about what he was about to do.

"Sheppard," he heard Ronon growl as he palmed open the door.

"Can't talk now," John bit back. "Holding my breath." And then he was inside.

John thought the faintest of orange hazes hung in the air as he made his way to auxiliary control, but it might have been his imagination. What wasn't his imagination was that the door controls took longer to find than he could hold his breath.

Not that it really mattered. He knew that some nerve agents could work just as well through skin contact as through inhalation. And when John's hands began to shake, he knew he was screwed.

After that, awareness came in flashes.

Stumbling into the too bright sunlight . . .

Falling to the forest floor, crunching dead leaves . . .

Gasping great wheezing breaths as iron bands tightened around his lungs . . .

Arching as muscles contracted and spasms tore through his body . . .

Familiar voices approaching, yelling, gasping, crying out, before white noise filled his ears . . .

The light growing brighter and brighter, even through his shades, until it stabbed into his brain like a knife . . .

Then nothing but darkness rushing in on him, and a single, silent voice . . .

It's not the same, John.

Blackness consumed him. When he woke up later, it was to the voice's fading words.

This is much worse.

---SGA---

". . . damage to his nervous system is severe. We don't yet know how much it will affect . . ."

"John? Can you hear me? Is he . . ."

". . . prolonged oxygen deprivation. There's no way to tell if there's any brain damage until he wakes up, which so far we can't . . ."

". . . supposed to be twitching like that? Can't you do something to . . ."

". . . definite injury to the sensory nerves, but if he doesn't wake up soon, then it won't . . ."

"Sheppard, please, just . . . I'm sorry, I'm so . . ."

John is smothered in blackness. The voices float above his head, so close, yet so faint. He cannot get his eyes to open.

He has a profound sense of déjà vu.

---SGA---

It is worse than when the Wraith fed on him.

When John wakes, he cannot move or see. His team is there to guide him through the worst of the shock – Ronon with his gruff words of encouragement, Teyla with her strong hands over his own limp ones, Rodney with his frenetic promises of finding a cure – but he closes down after that and won't speak to anyone but the infirmary staff for a long while. He hears Dr. Keller tell Colonel Carter that the problem may be some kind of post-traumatic stress; he tells her the problem is that he just woke up blind and paralyzed and his life is pretty much over.

Despite his lapse into depression, his team absolutely refuses to leave him alone. Whenever he's awake, at least one of them is there to talk to him, even if he doesn't respond. And even when he's pretending to sleep, their presence – the click of laptop keys, a softly hummed Athosian tune, a feeling he can only describe as a "brooding silence" that he just knows is Ronon – is his constant companion.

Eventually, John relents. His team starts bringing their meals to the infirmary, and even though it takes many days, Sheppard begins to smile occasionally and poke fun at Rodney's antics. He's realized this is the Pegasus Galaxy, and they are in the City of the Ancients – certainly there is some technological marvel here that can solve his problem. The thought buoys his spirits significantly, which is why everyone notices the first time he blacks out.

Ironically, it happens shortly after McKay goes on a rant – this time about Ancient locking mechanisms – that is a little too venom-filled and leaves an awkward silence in its wake. John firmly denies that Rodney could have done anything differently and is in the middle of baiting the physicist into a good-natured argument when he is suddenly aware of several voices calling his name and a set of hands patting his face.

Dr. Keller runs several tests over the next few days, the results of which confirm everyone's suspicions: John is getting worse. He blacks out only occasionally – awakening later to find he has been laying unresponsive, slack-faced, for several minutes – but each episode is longer than the last. His speech, too, has been sub-par since he woke up, and now he slurs more often than he can form clear syllables.

It seems the entire city is in a race to help him, and John would be embarrassed by all the attention except that he is really, truly desperate for something that will return the use of his body to him. John would settle for being blind if only he could move; being trapped like this is torture, and his dreams are filled with suffocation.

Time passes slowly and quickly. The hours turn into days and the days become weeks. John's uncooperative lips can barely form intelligible sentences now, and his blackouts last for hours. Every time he surfaces, his horror at time lost overwhelms him. It is happening more often now, too, and he knows that soon his periods of lucidity will grow few and far between.

When he surfaces again from a blackout he knows lasted many hours, there is a strange humming sound above him, the sense of many people crowding the room, and a deep heat working its way through his skull. Minutes later – or perhaps hours; Sheppard cannot tell – the humming stops and a collective sigh – not of relief but of resignation – runs through the group. Then the occupants of the room notice that he is awake and rush to explain.

Carter says that the humming was a Goa'uld healing device, shipped specially from Earth, and they thought it might be best to try it out while he was catatonic. Dr. Keller tells him that they should have seen immediate results, but she'll run some more tests to see if there is any improvement they missed. Rodney stammers as he points out that Sam's not really a Goa'uld anyways, so it's possible she just wasn't skilled enough to use the device properly.

John listens to the words, but it is the voices that tell him what he needs to know: they have nothing. The device was a last ditch resort, attempted while he was unaware so as not to raise false hopes. He can hear it in the carefully chosen words, in the pauses that translate into meaningful glances, in the way everyone lets Rodney ramble because no one has anything to say.

The next day, he refuses Keller's offer to put him in stasis; John is tired of losing time and he doesn't want to wake up to find he's lost years and nothing (or everything) has changed. Later he listens when Carter lays out his options for returning to Earth, because it is all but a foregone conclusion. McKay stops by and tries to apologize again, so Sheppard feeds him the same lines – it's not Rodney's fault, John would do it again if he had to – and manages not to black out until Rodney leaves.

John lays awake that night, shuddering in his mind, and wonders if the latter half of what he told the physicist was a lie. The doubt makes him cringe, and in his dreams a cold voice whispers, do you still love them?

It is the day before the Daedalus departs that John makes a decision. Rodney reacts with a predictable mixture of curiosity and horror when John finally conveys his request. Teyla, too, is hesitant, and Ronon remains silent. Sheppard's periods of responsiveness are down to a few hours per day now, and it is with a growing sense of urgency that he pleads with his team to help. It is only when he lolls his head in their general direction, licks his lips, and slurs, "I'm still in here" that they relent.

Sneaking him out of the infirmary is relatively easy, but John's absence will not go unnoticed for long, and they will not get another chance to do this. John nearly cries when the puddlejumper reacts to his mental commands, groaning in contentment as Ronon places him in the pilot's chair, not caring that his body slouches limply in the seat. Rodney is babbling incessantly, exclaiming in awe at how the Ancient technology still reacts to John's powerful gene. Sheppard, for his part, sinks deeper into the mental interface and revels in the fact that it is almost like being able to see and move again.

As agreed, his team leaves him alone with his thoughts for a few minutes. Before they go, John manages a barely decipherable "thank you." Rodney babbles and brushes it off while Teyla's hair falls across John's face when she touches her forehead to his. Ronon claps him on the shoulder and squeezes a second longer than is necessary; John thinks the runner suspects.

Once he senses they have stepped outside the 'jumper, he mentally shuts the hatch and powers the engines. Rodney and Teyla call out, but Ronon, whom John knows could have reached him before the door closed, remains silent.

The ultimate test comes when John tries to lift off using only his genetic link to the Ancient systems. There is one horrible moment where nothing happens, and then John knows he is flying as surely as he knows the control room is ordering the 'jumper bay doors shut. It's too late, however, and he climbs into a sky he can't see with an actual smile on his face.

As he guides the 'jumper into a nosedive in the outer atmosphere, John enjoys the thought that all fighter pilots wish they could go out in such a blaze of glory. Ancient warnings blare in his mind, but he ignores them and focuses on breathing deeply, the mind-link his only connection to the outside world. The ship shakes as if it's coming apart at the seams – which it is – and John braces himself, but instead of the sudden rush of air and fire that he is expecting, a tingling sensation overtakes his entire body and he has just enough time to think no! before it is over.

The Daedalus beams him directly back to the Atlantis infirmary. Hands are all over him, lifting and pulling, and John wants to scream, tries to scream, but all that comes out is a strangled moan. and then he blacks out. When he wakes he has lost an entire day and they are preparing to beam him to the Daedalus for departure to Earth.

"Please," he says, though no one can understand him. He has never felt such despair or panic overwhelm him before. "Please," he says again, "don't . . . just let me - " and then the sense of being split into a million tiny pieces envelops him, and when he is reintegrated he hears a sudden hissing sound and there is a concrete floor rushing up to meet his face.

"Sir!" Major Lorne barks, catching him by the shoulders as John pitches forward. The light is too bright and the hum of machinery is too loud and John is breathing too fast because he can see.

"Major," he slurs, unperturbed by his numb lips because when he reaches out to grab the man's jacket his muscles work.

"Set him down, set him down," Dr. Keller orders as she appears at the major's side. John's legs are jelly beneath him and it takes both of them to lower him to the ground.

"What?" he asks, over and over. "What? What?"

"Don't worry, sir, Dr. Z got you out of there," Lorne replies, stepping back to allow Keller's medics to assist his commanding officer.

"Actually," Zelenka's slight accent carries from nearby, "I do not think it was anything I did. The pod seems to have ejected him on its own." John rolls his head to see better, prompting Keller to hmm disapprovingly and turn his chin back to her, but not before he sees the Czech crouching next to what looks like a vertical stasis tube made of shiny metal. It is open, smoking slightly, and Radek is frowning at the datapad in his hands.

Nothing is making sense. Keller shines a penlight into his eyes. "What?" he asks again.

"He's in shock," she announces to no one in particular. "Let's get him on a gurney."

"No," he says, struggling feebly as many hands lift his body into the air. Someone grabs his wrist and he hisses in pain. The hand abruptly lets go and John sees raw skin and blood encircling his flesh like a bracelet. "What . . . where . . ."

"You and your team have been missing for almost two days, Colonel," Keller tells him in a soft voice, "but it's alright, we found you now." John stares, bewildered.

"Don't worry, sir, we'll get them out, too," Lorne announces grimly. "You have my word."

John glimpses more of the upright pods. Most of them are dark. Three of them are not.

"Colonel, I need you to calm down," Keller says, placing a hand on his shoulder and moving to block his view. He looks at her wide-eyed and his breathing only grows more panicked.

"What?" he says again, because he can't begin to form coherent sentences.

Keller gives a low-voiced order to one of her fellow medics before turning back to him. "Dr. Zelenka and his team are working on it," she says soothingly as something sharp pricks his shoulder. "Now relax. You can't help them by making yourself sick."

John starts laughing hysterically and doesn't stop until the drug pulls him under.