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Back to Pt. 4
Rodney stared at Daniel for a moment then blinked. “Dr. Lam? The SGC's Dr. Lam?”
“Unless there's another Dr. Lam I'm not aware of, yes. It's not really an end-all solution, I know, but it is a solution. The best way to deal with a large problem is one piece at a time. We get Carolyn to come, check Colonel Sheppard over. If she says we take him to a hospital then we take him. If not, it's one less issue to worry about. She's also better qualified to determine if all that bruising is the result of mistreatment.”
“But it is,” Rodney said.
“Yes, but who is the SGC more likely to listen to – the archaeologist, the physicist, or the woman who knows the name of every bone in the human body and knows the difference between a sprain, a fracture, and a complete break? We need an expert, someone to back us up on our claims, and Dr. Lam is it.”
Rodney shook his head immediately. “No. We can't. Too risky. Sheppard would kick my ass for bringing in a third party, and I wouldn't blame him. I mean, that's a risk to the career, isn't it? Taking part in hiding a fugitive... of sorts?”
“If it comes down to that,” Daniel replied, “ we will deny she had any involvement.”
“Yes, well, what if she doesn't care about being involved because she feels it her civic duty to be the one to point the finger our way? Huh?”
“I trust her,” Daniel said.
“Well, sorry, but I don't,” McKay shot back, crossing his arms and lifting his chin, which had always been his signature stance for declaring a topic closed.
Not that it had yet to ever really work.
“I do,” Daniel said. “You wanted my help, needed a solution? Well, that's what I've got.”
“Well, it sucks.”
“Well, too bad. We need to do something. Colonel Sheppard is getting worse, and we're getting nowhere in helping him. I trust Dr. Lam. I know that once she takes a look at Sheppard, sees the bruises, she'll be on board. Just let me give her a call and ask her to drop by. I'll even be vague on the reason why if it'll make you feel better. Just let me do this, and I promise it'll work out.”
Rodney gnawed on his bottom lip, staring at Daniel then shifting his gaze to the hall, half expecting to see Sheppard barreling out while shouting 'no' at the top of his lungs.
The hall remained quiet. The whole house was quiet, something that had never felt so unusual and uncomfortable until now. And it didn't help that Daniel had a point. There was something wrong with Sheppard that science wasn't going to fix and that waiting seemed to be only making worse, and the only choices to be had were all ones that made Rodney cringe just thinking about. It had come down to choosing the lesser of two evils, and Daniel's suggestion was as less as they got.
“I'll need to talk to Sheppard about it. So he doesn't, you know, freak.”
Daniel nodded. “That's fine. You'll have to convince him if he says no.”
“Like he has a choice. It's either a doctor from the SGC or the SGC. The man gives a whole new meaning to stubborn, but he knows how to be reasonable, and he's not an idiot. Make the call.” Rodney then rose and headed toward the bedroom, hoping the reason Sheppard hadn't protested wasn't because he'd bolted.
He entered the room to see tufts of dark hair sticking out from beneath the mound of blankets that rose and fell lightly. Rodney had sudden apprehensions about waking him, especially if this was the first time Sheppard had actually fallen asleep since showing up. Between the vomiting and paranoia, it seemed Sheppard hadn't gotten a single wink until now.
Rodney moved to the chair and sat, giving in for now to the reluctance. Waiting five or ten minutes wasn't going to make a difference except to Sheppard's body desperately in need of real sleep, making every little bit of unconsciousness count.
Unfortunately, time, silence, and exhaustion were making more elbow room for doubt to squeeze in. Daniel was right – at this point Rodney didn't trust anyone and that included Daniel himself. Not that he expected Daniel to turn them in – the man was acting quite sincere in his desire to help, and it was a sincerity hard to refute. Either that or Rodney was just that desperate. It was the man's faith in others Rodney felt a tight knot in his gut about. If Daniel was wrong about Lam then Sheppard was screwed one way or the other. Rodney had seen some special on state-run mental facilities, with their lack of funding and underpaid staff not putting in the necessary effort to really care for their patients. Not every state-run hospital was like that. Of course not. The special had said as much. But it was one more thing to worry about.
Rodney was really getting tired of worrying and once again found himself wishing that Sheppard had decided to keep going rather than drop by. Keep going and going until he collapsed from exhaustion, where he would lie huddled, freezing and starving in the middle of nowhere until there was nothing left of him but a pile of bones for some hiker to trip over…. He massaged his aching face tiredly.
“I'm okay with the doc.”
Rodney paused. “What?” He lowered his hands to see Sheppard curved so that he could look at Rodney, gaze steady despite the obvious exhaustion keeping his eyes heavy-lidded.
“You heard us?” Rodney asked dumbly.
“This place has good acoustics,” John muttered. He shrugged. “Not great. I didn't catch it all. Just the part about calling the doc instead of the SGC and denying her involvement or something like that. And I'm okay with it.”
Rodney double-blinked at that. “Really?”
To which Sheppard narrowed his eyes and replied, “What do you think?”
“I think,” Rodney said with an unnerved convulsive swallow, only to perk with an epiphany that was, in fact, not really all that reassuring. “You're resigned to it.” Because Sheppard hadn't wanted anyone involved, while at the same time was as stumped as Rodney about how to proceed.
“Something like that,” Sheppard said, fighting the pull of nictitating eyelids. “But for the record, I don't like it.”
Rodney snorted. “I could have told you that.”
Sheppard's features tightened into an expression that, for a moment, made Rodney wonder if he was in pain and trying to hide it.
“I'm really sorry about this, Rodney,” he said. “Like I said, I, uh... I heard some of what you guys said and... if – if you want to call the SGC....”
Rodney stiffened in surprise and remained stiffened in indignation, both keeping him momentarily speechless. Anger crept up his back and into his neck, pulling the muscles until they hurt, making his skull throb. After the crap Sheppard had put Rodney through - making him promise not to call anyone, scaring the hell out of him with fury and uncertainty - and... and now he was willing to be reasonable? Now, after Rodney had lost half the night agonizing and debating over what the hell to do? Now Sheppard was okay with whatever he decided?
Except Sheppard hadn't finished his statement and continued to keep it incomplete as he stared at some inane point on the wall across from him. It was plain by the increase of the pained look that Sheppard was having an internal debate of his own. Perhaps had even been having this debate for some time now.
Sheppard didn't want Rodney to call the SGC; he was just being a considerate asshole by offering it as a possible solution. He was just being nice because he felt guilty.
Rodney sighed. “I'm not calling the SGC.”
The pained look lingered for a moment longer, only ending when Sheppard lost the battle to stay awake. Rodney gave it four to five minutes, maybe less, for Sheppard to claw his way back to consciousness and finish giving Rodney his consent to rat him out. Sheppard was a selfish, selfish bastard that way. Considerate to a fault, the fault being his preference for putting himself between harm and the people he can't stand seeing harmed. Forget what his injury and near-demise did to those around him; so long as he wasn't the one suffering the twisting pain of worry then life was good.
Physical pain was so much easier to deal with than the emotional crap. The emotional stuff lingered even long after the fact, like being stabbed with a piece of wood and having the splinter still under your skin long after removal. You could ignore it, for the most part, until you touched the still-tender area and remembered. Rodney knew – he'd stabbed himself with a broken pencil and still had a microscopic sliver of it in the skin of the middle finger of his left hand. It pinched when prodded just right. Loss really was a lot like that pinch, but he hadn't realized it until he'd lost Carson then Elizabeth. Two tender spots under the skin.
So he really couldn't blame Sheppard. Maybe later, when Sheppard was back on his feet and out of danger, Rodney would happily lay into him. Maybe... no, no maybe about it. He would milk a few favors from Sheppard. Make that a ton of favors. But until that time, none of this was Sheppard's fault.
---------------------------------
Rodney assumed he must have dozed when he jolted awake to rapid knocking at his door and déjà vu. The noise was enough to get even Sheppard's heavy head off the pillow, turned toward the door then turning to look at Rodney with sleep-heavy eyes.
“Hope thas her,” he slurred.
“Me to,” Rodney said. He pushed from the chair and emerged into the hall to catch Daniel peering through the peephole.
“It's Carolyn,” he announced and opened the door.
Dr. Lam stood on the other side, dressed in a light tan dress-suit, a black medical bag in one hand, and wearing a look that clearly stated how this better be worth her time.
“Daniel,” she cordially said with a touch of cool.
“Dr. Lam,” Daniel cordially replied with a touch of apology. He stepped aside for her to enter. “Thanks for coming at such short notice and... without much of an explanation. Sorry for that, by the way.”
Dr. Lam's eyes wandered to whatever was in view until settling on Rodney. “Dr. McKay.”
Rodney gave her a small wave. “Hey.
Lam squinted. “I'm assuming he's not the one who needs immediate medical attention.”
“And you'd be right,” Daniel said.
“So I'm assuming there's a third person in the house.”
“And you'd assume correctly.”
“And that this third person isn't being taken to a local hospital for reasons I don't really want to know about.”
Daniel, clearly uncomfortable, pointed at her. “You do know how to assume.”
Rodney, having had nothing so far to contribute to the conversation, looked back and forth from Daniel to Lam. “So, what did you tell her over the phone?”
“Well,” Daniel began, “to play it safe, I told her that we were in need of her medical expertise and that it was an emergency... and that's it.”
Rodney widened his eyes in alarm. “Oh, yes, I can totally see why she came running. Seriously?”
“It wasn't like I could tell her everything. The SGC's high security. Jack may not have confirmed it, and never will, but I still believe they have the phones tapped, and I wasn't going to take any chances.”
Daniel could give Sheppard a run for his money in paranoia. Although he did have a point. Rodney had never really thought about it before, but he could see the SGC going for extreme security measures, what with all their close calls and near-breaches that they couldn't even begin to number.
Lam raised her hand, inserting herself back into the conversation. “Am I going to regret having come here?” She then turned to face Jackson, placing her hand on her hip and holding him to the spot with a steely gaze. “What the hell is going on? Why did you call me down here? Seriously, am I going to regret this?”
Daniel held his palms out to her as if pushing back any further tirades. “Just calm down, hear me out. First off, no, you're not going to regret this; we'll make sure of it. Second, I'm going to need you to listen to everything I have to say, start to finish, and no reactions or interruptions until complete.”
“Is it going to take long?” Lam asked. “I'm doing this on my lunch break so I only have an hour. Oh, and let's not forget that you called me here because someone's in need of medical attention. I'm assuming – no, hoping – that my expertise isn't needed to sew them up because they're bleeding out as we stand here talking.”
Rodney had to hand it to her – she was a woman who knew how not to waste time, and Rodney half-expected Daniel to start groveling before her at any moment.
Daniel shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Then he proceeded to explain with a lot more tact than Rodney, as well as more succinctly. When the explanation was complete, Lam had dropped her hand from her hip to her side and stared at Daniel as though he'd just told her he'd temporarily grown two heads, only the second head had fallen off and dissolved on the floor and he needed an explanation as to why that had happened.
Yet instead of questioning Daniel's sanity, she pointed down the hall. “I'm assuming he's in the bedroom.” And without another word, marched past Daniel to said room, leaving Daniel and Rodney to follow.
“She does like to assume,” Rodney muttered.
Sheppard, more than likely having heard their little exchange in the hall, had his head lifted on his weak neck and was regarding Lam warily. For a moment, Rodney fretted that Sheppard would have a sudden, violent change of heart and finally give into that delirium that had yet to truly manifest itself. In fact, he thought he detected a hint of rebellion in Sheppard's expression. If Lam noticed, she wasn't acknowledging it, making room on the night stand to place her bag while showing John only a warm, friendly smile.
“Colonel Sheppard,” she said. “I heard you weren't feeling too hot.”
“Way to state the obvious, Doc,” he said, her warmth barely making a dent in his caution. “I will admit that I've been better.”
Lam pulled her stethoscope from her bag and fitted the nubs into her ears. “Well, rest assure I'm just here to help. I need you upright. Daniel, Dr. McKay?”
She stepped back for Daniel and Rodney to step in and take John by either arm, hauling him upright, then Rodney keeping him upright once vertical while Daniel lifted Sheppard's shirt to his armpits. Lam made a sharp little gasping noise, and Daniel's eyes bulged.
“Yeah, I can definitely say that I didn't get this banged up,” Daniel said.
Lam crouched enough to be more level with John's torso, pressing the stethoscope to his chest. “John, let me know if I'm hurting you.” She listened then shifted the bell to his back. “Breathe in.”
Sheppard did, exhaling on a couple of light coughs that made him grimace and groan afterwards. Finished, Lam pulled the stethoscope around her neck and removed the blood pressure cuff from her bag. “There's some mild congestion, nothing severe. His heart sounds a little rapid.” She slapped the cuff on John's bicep and pumped it. “BP's a little low.” After removing the cuff and setting it aside, she focused her attention on the bruises with gentle pokes and prods. The dark look in Sheppard's eyes said he wasn't enjoying it, and for reasons that had nothing to do with any pain. He winced and hissed occasionally, but when Lam pressed against the general area of the supposed cracked rib, his body lurched forward trying to double over and almost slipped from Rodney's grasp.
“Sorry!” Lam said quickly. “Does it hurt when you breathe?”
John nodded. “If I breathe too deep. Or cough.”
“Might be cracked then,” she said. “I can't be certain without X-rays. But I didn't feel any give in the bones so some fortune there. I'd like to give you something for the pain -”
John's body bucked so hard that Rodney's own body jolted with him, the muscles under his grip going as solid as wood. “No! No, no drugs. No drugs. I don't want anymore drugs....” He began shaking.
Lam, her formerly steely gaze now warm and soft with compassion, placed her hand on his wrist and squeezed. “But I can't until I know what's still in your bloodstream. You were in a mental hospital, which means there's probably a cocktail of medication in your system that would make giving you anything risky. So, instead of giving, I'll be taking some of your blood to analyze.” She turned to her bag and rummaged through it, pulling out gloves, a rubber tourniquet, needle, and tube.
As she prepped herself then his arm, she said, “You may be experiencing withdrawal. It would account for the rapid heartbeat and low blood pressure, combined with stress. I have to agree – what I'm seeing is looking more and more like the result of misconduct.”
“They kept pumping me full of weird stuff,” John said. He cringed a little when the needle was inserted. “Made me feel wrong – angry, scared...”
“He thinks they were experimenting on him,” Rodney added, just to be helpful.
“It's a possibility,” Lam said, making Rodney flinch.
“What? How... you've only been here a couple of minutes, and you're already buying into it!” He completely ignored Sheppard's withering scowl.
Lam capped the tube off, wrapped it in a cotton pad, and placed it in a plastic bag that she then placed in another plastic bag full of partially melted ice. “It's not unheard of for doctors to try new medications not on the market. Most are FDA approved, but there have been doctors willing to step over the line and use untested drugs, sometimes out of desperation but in rare cases because they were paid to do so. It could also be a matter of incompetence, laziness, lack of funds to obtain the needed medications. Though the bruises are making me lean more toward incompetence and laziness. Which, I've been told, the VA where Sheppard was sent never had a problem with.”
“And I can vouch,” Daniel said. “Or could. At the time I was treated relatively fair.”
Lam nodded. “I read about that incident. So this doesn't make any sense unless the place has gone downhill since then. Other patients might be suffering the same abuse.”
Rising, Lam snapped off her gloves and tossed them into the bucket. “We need to get him to the SGC. I'll need X-rays....”
Sheppard's body stiffened, and Rodney's mimicked. He blurted without thinking, “We can't do that.”
Lam looked at him steadily. “Why not?”
Rodney opened his mouth to reply and left it hanging open as he looked from Sheppard to Daniel then back to Sheppard, searching – hoping – for help in forming a simple and direct answer from one of the two men. All he could come up with himself were long-winded excuses that he knew would make him sound just as paranoid as Sheppard. And yet he still couldn't bring himself to disagree with them.
It was Daniel who came to the rescue. “Not yet. Not without assurances that Sheppard will be perfectly safe there.”
Lam's brow furrowed. “Why wouldn't he be?”
“Do you honestly think the IOA is going to be okay with the SGC keeping a supposedly mentally unstable man within a high-security facility? They'll want him shipped to the nearest institution for safety's sake, and if measures aren't put into place to maintain Sheppard's protection then anyone with a PhD in psychology could waltz in, flash the right papers and credentials, and do whatever they want to him.”
“Such as arrange his death in the form of a suicide to cover their tracks,” Rodney added. “And that's only if the previous hospital doesn't come up with a semi-plausible story for what happened that the IOA believes because they're too lazy to put forth the effort to deal with this.”
Sheppard looked up at Lam with an arched eyebrow. “What they said.”
Lam regarded all three men as though every one of them had sprouted a second head. “That's... looking at it kind of extreme, don't you think?”
Daniel shrugged. “Just considering all the possibilities.”
“And not taking any chances,” Rodney added.
After another quick regard, Lam huffed a sharp breath and pursed her lips. “I call it extreme,” she said. “But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to wait and gather more data.” She pulled a small, digital camera from her bag and snapped off a few pictures of John's front then moved to the other side of the bed for pictures of his back, the flashes making John wince each time. The winces, in turn, had her switching the camera for a penlight she stabbed into his eyes, making his head rear back.
“Probably part of the withdrawal,” she said. “And it'll probably get worse.”
Rodney tightened his grip when John sagged, mumbling, “Goody.”
“I need to head back to the SGC and analyze your blood. It may take a while to determine what you were given.” Lam closed her bag and picked it up but, before leaving, pointed at each man. “If I call and tell you to bring him in, you two bring him in. In the meantime – rest, plenty of fluids, and try to eat if you can. I'll contact you once I know something.”
Lam then left, Daniel following to see her to the door. Rodney helped John back onto his side and under the covers.
“That wasn't so bad, was it?” Rodney asked.
John snorted. “Switch places with me and then say that.”
“I meant that it didn't kill you,” Rodney snapped back. “In fact, this was probably the answer to all your woes. Lam tests your blood, compiles the findings into a neat little folder that she presents to the SGC, the hospital is taken down and you... well, you....”
“Go to another hospital,” John said. “Where they find me and start it all over again.”
Rodney sighed a short puff of annoyed breath. “Okay, will you please set aside the conspiracy theories, just for now?”
“I can't!” John barked. As much as he could bark in his condition, the force of it more like a hoarse cough that packed less of a punch. He lifted his head enough to stare up at Rodney with an intensity that surpassed his weakened state, making Rodney take a nervous step back.
“Believe me or not, Rodney, I don't really give a damn because at this point it doesn't make much of a difference. But I know what I'm talking about. I know they were doing something to me. Testing new medication or something else, I can't say; I just know as certain as my own name that they were doing something they weren't supposed to, and it was making me worse. You weren't there so you don't know. And since you so often like to remind us that having DR in front of your name doesn't make you a practitioner of the voodoo arts as you like to call it, I would think you’re the least qualified to label anything I have to say as the result of damn paranoia!”
John dropped his head back onto the pillow, his eyes closed as he rode out an onslaught of exhaustion and irritation that had his chest heaving and his body shaking. It only took less than a minute for him to settle - from panting and trembling to the occasional shudder flitting through his frame. Hazel eyes opened half-lidded and glassy with fatigue.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, and even partially-slurred Rodney could still hear the grudging sincerity of that apology. “But I stand by what I said.”
Rodney nodded, reeling a little over the power of Sheppard's outburst. “Sure, fine.”
“I can't go back,” Sheppard said.
“We already discussed this – you won't,” Rodney replied, even if Sheppard's statement was meant to be rhetorical.
The outburst had taken more energy than Sheppard had, leaving him vulnerable to an exhaustion that had him unfocused and his lids fluttering in futility as if he'd been drugged. Sheppard blinked heavily once, twice, fought a little longer then finally succumbed, much to Rodney's relief. It had worn him out a little just to watch, not to mention effectively ended the conversation. He knew better than to argue with a sick and delirious man.
Besides, who was he kidding? Lam had just confirmed the possibility of experimentation, shoving it on the table whether Rodney liked it or not. And of course, he didn't like it. More of that selfish thinking, he supposed, because he really didn't want to think about it. Neither did he care if it was selfish. Little sleep, little food, an escaped mental patient in his house and possible conspiracies – he was barely hanging on by a thread as it was. He didn't need any more incentive to curl up into a corner and hope it all went away, being that it was what he was trying so hard not to do.
Speaking of food, he needed to eat before his blood-sugar made him as infirm as Sheppard. Before stepping out of the room, Rodney hovered by John's bed, watching him.
Give him a device to fix and a limited amount of time to fix it – that Rodney could do. This – this cracked mind in a body looking unnaturally small for being supposedly six foot something – this was impossible. Honest to goodness, no exaggerating, no minor possibilities of success he didn't want to mention because of how minor they were, impossible. You don't fix human beings with socket-wrenches and mini-welders.
Except they weren't trying to fix Sheppard; they were just trying to keep him safe. Still, after all the nightmarish crap the Pegasus Galaxy had thrown at them, it was viciously ironic that the here and now – on Earth in a dinky little townhouse – was turning out to be the biggest of all pain in the asses.
Either that or Rodney really did have issues when it came to exaggerating.
No. He was right the first time – this was turning out to be a monumental pain in the ass. Although, he supposed, it could be worse. Rodney winced. Why the hell did I have to think that?
TBC...
On to Pt. 6
Rodney stared at Daniel for a moment then blinked. “Dr. Lam? The SGC's Dr. Lam?”
“Unless there's another Dr. Lam I'm not aware of, yes. It's not really an end-all solution, I know, but it is a solution. The best way to deal with a large problem is one piece at a time. We get Carolyn to come, check Colonel Sheppard over. If she says we take him to a hospital then we take him. If not, it's one less issue to worry about. She's also better qualified to determine if all that bruising is the result of mistreatment.”
“But it is,” Rodney said.
“Yes, but who is the SGC more likely to listen to – the archaeologist, the physicist, or the woman who knows the name of every bone in the human body and knows the difference between a sprain, a fracture, and a complete break? We need an expert, someone to back us up on our claims, and Dr. Lam is it.”
Rodney shook his head immediately. “No. We can't. Too risky. Sheppard would kick my ass for bringing in a third party, and I wouldn't blame him. I mean, that's a risk to the career, isn't it? Taking part in hiding a fugitive... of sorts?”
“If it comes down to that,” Daniel replied, “ we will deny she had any involvement.”
“Yes, well, what if she doesn't care about being involved because she feels it her civic duty to be the one to point the finger our way? Huh?”
“I trust her,” Daniel said.
“Well, sorry, but I don't,” McKay shot back, crossing his arms and lifting his chin, which had always been his signature stance for declaring a topic closed.
Not that it had yet to ever really work.
“I do,” Daniel said. “You wanted my help, needed a solution? Well, that's what I've got.”
“Well, it sucks.”
“Well, too bad. We need to do something. Colonel Sheppard is getting worse, and we're getting nowhere in helping him. I trust Dr. Lam. I know that once she takes a look at Sheppard, sees the bruises, she'll be on board. Just let me give her a call and ask her to drop by. I'll even be vague on the reason why if it'll make you feel better. Just let me do this, and I promise it'll work out.”
Rodney gnawed on his bottom lip, staring at Daniel then shifting his gaze to the hall, half expecting to see Sheppard barreling out while shouting 'no' at the top of his lungs.
The hall remained quiet. The whole house was quiet, something that had never felt so unusual and uncomfortable until now. And it didn't help that Daniel had a point. There was something wrong with Sheppard that science wasn't going to fix and that waiting seemed to be only making worse, and the only choices to be had were all ones that made Rodney cringe just thinking about. It had come down to choosing the lesser of two evils, and Daniel's suggestion was as less as they got.
“I'll need to talk to Sheppard about it. So he doesn't, you know, freak.”
Daniel nodded. “That's fine. You'll have to convince him if he says no.”
“Like he has a choice. It's either a doctor from the SGC or the SGC. The man gives a whole new meaning to stubborn, but he knows how to be reasonable, and he's not an idiot. Make the call.” Rodney then rose and headed toward the bedroom, hoping the reason Sheppard hadn't protested wasn't because he'd bolted.
He entered the room to see tufts of dark hair sticking out from beneath the mound of blankets that rose and fell lightly. Rodney had sudden apprehensions about waking him, especially if this was the first time Sheppard had actually fallen asleep since showing up. Between the vomiting and paranoia, it seemed Sheppard hadn't gotten a single wink until now.
Rodney moved to the chair and sat, giving in for now to the reluctance. Waiting five or ten minutes wasn't going to make a difference except to Sheppard's body desperately in need of real sleep, making every little bit of unconsciousness count.
Unfortunately, time, silence, and exhaustion were making more elbow room for doubt to squeeze in. Daniel was right – at this point Rodney didn't trust anyone and that included Daniel himself. Not that he expected Daniel to turn them in – the man was acting quite sincere in his desire to help, and it was a sincerity hard to refute. Either that or Rodney was just that desperate. It was the man's faith in others Rodney felt a tight knot in his gut about. If Daniel was wrong about Lam then Sheppard was screwed one way or the other. Rodney had seen some special on state-run mental facilities, with their lack of funding and underpaid staff not putting in the necessary effort to really care for their patients. Not every state-run hospital was like that. Of course not. The special had said as much. But it was one more thing to worry about.
Rodney was really getting tired of worrying and once again found himself wishing that Sheppard had decided to keep going rather than drop by. Keep going and going until he collapsed from exhaustion, where he would lie huddled, freezing and starving in the middle of nowhere until there was nothing left of him but a pile of bones for some hiker to trip over…. He massaged his aching face tiredly.
“I'm okay with the doc.”
Rodney paused. “What?” He lowered his hands to see Sheppard curved so that he could look at Rodney, gaze steady despite the obvious exhaustion keeping his eyes heavy-lidded.
“You heard us?” Rodney asked dumbly.
“This place has good acoustics,” John muttered. He shrugged. “Not great. I didn't catch it all. Just the part about calling the doc instead of the SGC and denying her involvement or something like that. And I'm okay with it.”
Rodney double-blinked at that. “Really?”
To which Sheppard narrowed his eyes and replied, “What do you think?”
“I think,” Rodney said with an unnerved convulsive swallow, only to perk with an epiphany that was, in fact, not really all that reassuring. “You're resigned to it.” Because Sheppard hadn't wanted anyone involved, while at the same time was as stumped as Rodney about how to proceed.
“Something like that,” Sheppard said, fighting the pull of nictitating eyelids. “But for the record, I don't like it.”
Rodney snorted. “I could have told you that.”
Sheppard's features tightened into an expression that, for a moment, made Rodney wonder if he was in pain and trying to hide it.
“I'm really sorry about this, Rodney,” he said. “Like I said, I, uh... I heard some of what you guys said and... if – if you want to call the SGC....”
Rodney stiffened in surprise and remained stiffened in indignation, both keeping him momentarily speechless. Anger crept up his back and into his neck, pulling the muscles until they hurt, making his skull throb. After the crap Sheppard had put Rodney through - making him promise not to call anyone, scaring the hell out of him with fury and uncertainty - and... and now he was willing to be reasonable? Now, after Rodney had lost half the night agonizing and debating over what the hell to do? Now Sheppard was okay with whatever he decided?
Except Sheppard hadn't finished his statement and continued to keep it incomplete as he stared at some inane point on the wall across from him. It was plain by the increase of the pained look that Sheppard was having an internal debate of his own. Perhaps had even been having this debate for some time now.
Sheppard didn't want Rodney to call the SGC; he was just being a considerate asshole by offering it as a possible solution. He was just being nice because he felt guilty.
Rodney sighed. “I'm not calling the SGC.”
The pained look lingered for a moment longer, only ending when Sheppard lost the battle to stay awake. Rodney gave it four to five minutes, maybe less, for Sheppard to claw his way back to consciousness and finish giving Rodney his consent to rat him out. Sheppard was a selfish, selfish bastard that way. Considerate to a fault, the fault being his preference for putting himself between harm and the people he can't stand seeing harmed. Forget what his injury and near-demise did to those around him; so long as he wasn't the one suffering the twisting pain of worry then life was good.
Physical pain was so much easier to deal with than the emotional crap. The emotional stuff lingered even long after the fact, like being stabbed with a piece of wood and having the splinter still under your skin long after removal. You could ignore it, for the most part, until you touched the still-tender area and remembered. Rodney knew – he'd stabbed himself with a broken pencil and still had a microscopic sliver of it in the skin of the middle finger of his left hand. It pinched when prodded just right. Loss really was a lot like that pinch, but he hadn't realized it until he'd lost Carson then Elizabeth. Two tender spots under the skin.
So he really couldn't blame Sheppard. Maybe later, when Sheppard was back on his feet and out of danger, Rodney would happily lay into him. Maybe... no, no maybe about it. He would milk a few favors from Sheppard. Make that a ton of favors. But until that time, none of this was Sheppard's fault.
---------------------------------
Rodney assumed he must have dozed when he jolted awake to rapid knocking at his door and déjà vu. The noise was enough to get even Sheppard's heavy head off the pillow, turned toward the door then turning to look at Rodney with sleep-heavy eyes.
“Hope thas her,” he slurred.
“Me to,” Rodney said. He pushed from the chair and emerged into the hall to catch Daniel peering through the peephole.
“It's Carolyn,” he announced and opened the door.
Dr. Lam stood on the other side, dressed in a light tan dress-suit, a black medical bag in one hand, and wearing a look that clearly stated how this better be worth her time.
“Daniel,” she cordially said with a touch of cool.
“Dr. Lam,” Daniel cordially replied with a touch of apology. He stepped aside for her to enter. “Thanks for coming at such short notice and... without much of an explanation. Sorry for that, by the way.”
Dr. Lam's eyes wandered to whatever was in view until settling on Rodney. “Dr. McKay.”
Rodney gave her a small wave. “Hey.
Lam squinted. “I'm assuming he's not the one who needs immediate medical attention.”
“And you'd be right,” Daniel said.
“So I'm assuming there's a third person in the house.”
“And you'd assume correctly.”
“And that this third person isn't being taken to a local hospital for reasons I don't really want to know about.”
Daniel, clearly uncomfortable, pointed at her. “You do know how to assume.”
Rodney, having had nothing so far to contribute to the conversation, looked back and forth from Daniel to Lam. “So, what did you tell her over the phone?”
“Well,” Daniel began, “to play it safe, I told her that we were in need of her medical expertise and that it was an emergency... and that's it.”
Rodney widened his eyes in alarm. “Oh, yes, I can totally see why she came running. Seriously?”
“It wasn't like I could tell her everything. The SGC's high security. Jack may not have confirmed it, and never will, but I still believe they have the phones tapped, and I wasn't going to take any chances.”
Daniel could give Sheppard a run for his money in paranoia. Although he did have a point. Rodney had never really thought about it before, but he could see the SGC going for extreme security measures, what with all their close calls and near-breaches that they couldn't even begin to number.
Lam raised her hand, inserting herself back into the conversation. “Am I going to regret having come here?” She then turned to face Jackson, placing her hand on her hip and holding him to the spot with a steely gaze. “What the hell is going on? Why did you call me down here? Seriously, am I going to regret this?”
Daniel held his palms out to her as if pushing back any further tirades. “Just calm down, hear me out. First off, no, you're not going to regret this; we'll make sure of it. Second, I'm going to need you to listen to everything I have to say, start to finish, and no reactions or interruptions until complete.”
“Is it going to take long?” Lam asked. “I'm doing this on my lunch break so I only have an hour. Oh, and let's not forget that you called me here because someone's in need of medical attention. I'm assuming – no, hoping – that my expertise isn't needed to sew them up because they're bleeding out as we stand here talking.”
Rodney had to hand it to her – she was a woman who knew how not to waste time, and Rodney half-expected Daniel to start groveling before her at any moment.
Daniel shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Then he proceeded to explain with a lot more tact than Rodney, as well as more succinctly. When the explanation was complete, Lam had dropped her hand from her hip to her side and stared at Daniel as though he'd just told her he'd temporarily grown two heads, only the second head had fallen off and dissolved on the floor and he needed an explanation as to why that had happened.
Yet instead of questioning Daniel's sanity, she pointed down the hall. “I'm assuming he's in the bedroom.” And without another word, marched past Daniel to said room, leaving Daniel and Rodney to follow.
“She does like to assume,” Rodney muttered.
Sheppard, more than likely having heard their little exchange in the hall, had his head lifted on his weak neck and was regarding Lam warily. For a moment, Rodney fretted that Sheppard would have a sudden, violent change of heart and finally give into that delirium that had yet to truly manifest itself. In fact, he thought he detected a hint of rebellion in Sheppard's expression. If Lam noticed, she wasn't acknowledging it, making room on the night stand to place her bag while showing John only a warm, friendly smile.
“Colonel Sheppard,” she said. “I heard you weren't feeling too hot.”
“Way to state the obvious, Doc,” he said, her warmth barely making a dent in his caution. “I will admit that I've been better.”
Lam pulled her stethoscope from her bag and fitted the nubs into her ears. “Well, rest assure I'm just here to help. I need you upright. Daniel, Dr. McKay?”
She stepped back for Daniel and Rodney to step in and take John by either arm, hauling him upright, then Rodney keeping him upright once vertical while Daniel lifted Sheppard's shirt to his armpits. Lam made a sharp little gasping noise, and Daniel's eyes bulged.
“Yeah, I can definitely say that I didn't get this banged up,” Daniel said.
Lam crouched enough to be more level with John's torso, pressing the stethoscope to his chest. “John, let me know if I'm hurting you.” She listened then shifted the bell to his back. “Breathe in.”
Sheppard did, exhaling on a couple of light coughs that made him grimace and groan afterwards. Finished, Lam pulled the stethoscope around her neck and removed the blood pressure cuff from her bag. “There's some mild congestion, nothing severe. His heart sounds a little rapid.” She slapped the cuff on John's bicep and pumped it. “BP's a little low.” After removing the cuff and setting it aside, she focused her attention on the bruises with gentle pokes and prods. The dark look in Sheppard's eyes said he wasn't enjoying it, and for reasons that had nothing to do with any pain. He winced and hissed occasionally, but when Lam pressed against the general area of the supposed cracked rib, his body lurched forward trying to double over and almost slipped from Rodney's grasp.
“Sorry!” Lam said quickly. “Does it hurt when you breathe?”
John nodded. “If I breathe too deep. Or cough.”
“Might be cracked then,” she said. “I can't be certain without X-rays. But I didn't feel any give in the bones so some fortune there. I'd like to give you something for the pain -”
John's body bucked so hard that Rodney's own body jolted with him, the muscles under his grip going as solid as wood. “No! No, no drugs. No drugs. I don't want anymore drugs....” He began shaking.
Lam, her formerly steely gaze now warm and soft with compassion, placed her hand on his wrist and squeezed. “But I can't until I know what's still in your bloodstream. You were in a mental hospital, which means there's probably a cocktail of medication in your system that would make giving you anything risky. So, instead of giving, I'll be taking some of your blood to analyze.” She turned to her bag and rummaged through it, pulling out gloves, a rubber tourniquet, needle, and tube.
As she prepped herself then his arm, she said, “You may be experiencing withdrawal. It would account for the rapid heartbeat and low blood pressure, combined with stress. I have to agree – what I'm seeing is looking more and more like the result of misconduct.”
“They kept pumping me full of weird stuff,” John said. He cringed a little when the needle was inserted. “Made me feel wrong – angry, scared...”
“He thinks they were experimenting on him,” Rodney added, just to be helpful.
“It's a possibility,” Lam said, making Rodney flinch.
“What? How... you've only been here a couple of minutes, and you're already buying into it!” He completely ignored Sheppard's withering scowl.
Lam capped the tube off, wrapped it in a cotton pad, and placed it in a plastic bag that she then placed in another plastic bag full of partially melted ice. “It's not unheard of for doctors to try new medications not on the market. Most are FDA approved, but there have been doctors willing to step over the line and use untested drugs, sometimes out of desperation but in rare cases because they were paid to do so. It could also be a matter of incompetence, laziness, lack of funds to obtain the needed medications. Though the bruises are making me lean more toward incompetence and laziness. Which, I've been told, the VA where Sheppard was sent never had a problem with.”
“And I can vouch,” Daniel said. “Or could. At the time I was treated relatively fair.”
Lam nodded. “I read about that incident. So this doesn't make any sense unless the place has gone downhill since then. Other patients might be suffering the same abuse.”
Rising, Lam snapped off her gloves and tossed them into the bucket. “We need to get him to the SGC. I'll need X-rays....”
Sheppard's body stiffened, and Rodney's mimicked. He blurted without thinking, “We can't do that.”
Lam looked at him steadily. “Why not?”
Rodney opened his mouth to reply and left it hanging open as he looked from Sheppard to Daniel then back to Sheppard, searching – hoping – for help in forming a simple and direct answer from one of the two men. All he could come up with himself were long-winded excuses that he knew would make him sound just as paranoid as Sheppard. And yet he still couldn't bring himself to disagree with them.
It was Daniel who came to the rescue. “Not yet. Not without assurances that Sheppard will be perfectly safe there.”
Lam's brow furrowed. “Why wouldn't he be?”
“Do you honestly think the IOA is going to be okay with the SGC keeping a supposedly mentally unstable man within a high-security facility? They'll want him shipped to the nearest institution for safety's sake, and if measures aren't put into place to maintain Sheppard's protection then anyone with a PhD in psychology could waltz in, flash the right papers and credentials, and do whatever they want to him.”
“Such as arrange his death in the form of a suicide to cover their tracks,” Rodney added. “And that's only if the previous hospital doesn't come up with a semi-plausible story for what happened that the IOA believes because they're too lazy to put forth the effort to deal with this.”
Sheppard looked up at Lam with an arched eyebrow. “What they said.”
Lam regarded all three men as though every one of them had sprouted a second head. “That's... looking at it kind of extreme, don't you think?”
Daniel shrugged. “Just considering all the possibilities.”
“And not taking any chances,” Rodney added.
After another quick regard, Lam huffed a sharp breath and pursed her lips. “I call it extreme,” she said. “But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to wait and gather more data.” She pulled a small, digital camera from her bag and snapped off a few pictures of John's front then moved to the other side of the bed for pictures of his back, the flashes making John wince each time. The winces, in turn, had her switching the camera for a penlight she stabbed into his eyes, making his head rear back.
“Probably part of the withdrawal,” she said. “And it'll probably get worse.”
Rodney tightened his grip when John sagged, mumbling, “Goody.”
“I need to head back to the SGC and analyze your blood. It may take a while to determine what you were given.” Lam closed her bag and picked it up but, before leaving, pointed at each man. “If I call and tell you to bring him in, you two bring him in. In the meantime – rest, plenty of fluids, and try to eat if you can. I'll contact you once I know something.”
Lam then left, Daniel following to see her to the door. Rodney helped John back onto his side and under the covers.
“That wasn't so bad, was it?” Rodney asked.
John snorted. “Switch places with me and then say that.”
“I meant that it didn't kill you,” Rodney snapped back. “In fact, this was probably the answer to all your woes. Lam tests your blood, compiles the findings into a neat little folder that she presents to the SGC, the hospital is taken down and you... well, you....”
“Go to another hospital,” John said. “Where they find me and start it all over again.”
Rodney sighed a short puff of annoyed breath. “Okay, will you please set aside the conspiracy theories, just for now?”
“I can't!” John barked. As much as he could bark in his condition, the force of it more like a hoarse cough that packed less of a punch. He lifted his head enough to stare up at Rodney with an intensity that surpassed his weakened state, making Rodney take a nervous step back.
“Believe me or not, Rodney, I don't really give a damn because at this point it doesn't make much of a difference. But I know what I'm talking about. I know they were doing something to me. Testing new medication or something else, I can't say; I just know as certain as my own name that they were doing something they weren't supposed to, and it was making me worse. You weren't there so you don't know. And since you so often like to remind us that having DR in front of your name doesn't make you a practitioner of the voodoo arts as you like to call it, I would think you’re the least qualified to label anything I have to say as the result of damn paranoia!”
John dropped his head back onto the pillow, his eyes closed as he rode out an onslaught of exhaustion and irritation that had his chest heaving and his body shaking. It only took less than a minute for him to settle - from panting and trembling to the occasional shudder flitting through his frame. Hazel eyes opened half-lidded and glassy with fatigue.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, and even partially-slurred Rodney could still hear the grudging sincerity of that apology. “But I stand by what I said.”
Rodney nodded, reeling a little over the power of Sheppard's outburst. “Sure, fine.”
“I can't go back,” Sheppard said.
“We already discussed this – you won't,” Rodney replied, even if Sheppard's statement was meant to be rhetorical.
The outburst had taken more energy than Sheppard had, leaving him vulnerable to an exhaustion that had him unfocused and his lids fluttering in futility as if he'd been drugged. Sheppard blinked heavily once, twice, fought a little longer then finally succumbed, much to Rodney's relief. It had worn him out a little just to watch, not to mention effectively ended the conversation. He knew better than to argue with a sick and delirious man.
Besides, who was he kidding? Lam had just confirmed the possibility of experimentation, shoving it on the table whether Rodney liked it or not. And of course, he didn't like it. More of that selfish thinking, he supposed, because he really didn't want to think about it. Neither did he care if it was selfish. Little sleep, little food, an escaped mental patient in his house and possible conspiracies – he was barely hanging on by a thread as it was. He didn't need any more incentive to curl up into a corner and hope it all went away, being that it was what he was trying so hard not to do.
Speaking of food, he needed to eat before his blood-sugar made him as infirm as Sheppard. Before stepping out of the room, Rodney hovered by John's bed, watching him.
Give him a device to fix and a limited amount of time to fix it – that Rodney could do. This – this cracked mind in a body looking unnaturally small for being supposedly six foot something – this was impossible. Honest to goodness, no exaggerating, no minor possibilities of success he didn't want to mention because of how minor they were, impossible. You don't fix human beings with socket-wrenches and mini-welders.
Except they weren't trying to fix Sheppard; they were just trying to keep him safe. Still, after all the nightmarish crap the Pegasus Galaxy had thrown at them, it was viciously ironic that the here and now – on Earth in a dinky little townhouse – was turning out to be the biggest of all pain in the asses.
Either that or Rodney really did have issues when it came to exaggerating.
No. He was right the first time – this was turning out to be a monumental pain in the ass. Although, he supposed, it could be worse. Rodney winced. Why the hell did I have to think that?
TBC...
On to Pt. 6
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-06-14 04:59 am (UTC)From:Now there's an image.
And also? "Although, he supposed, it could be worse." Oh jeez.
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Date: 2008-06-14 05:12 am (UTC)From:Yes, Rodney really needs to stop thinking now :S
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Date: 2008-06-14 06:12 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2008-06-14 06:22 am (UTC)From:Yeah, I know, that doesn't exactly apply here since Lam has excellent assuming skills, but it was begging to be said after this chapter. ;)
I also have to agree with linziday. Love the image of Daniel's dissolving temporary head, and I greatly fear the implications of Rodney's "It could always be worse" because I never know what you've got up your sleeve!
I shall read the next part in the morning. So glad you're posting 2 parts at a time now. =D
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Date: 2008-06-14 07:21 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2008-06-14 02:29 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2008-07-08 04:06 am (UTC)From:Rodney, was at his wits end. Something had to give.
...And of course, its going to get worse...I can't wait! Serious Psych aid needed here...somebody call 911!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 01:51 am (UTC)From:I love Rodney, totally confused and out of his depth, but desperate to help John.