Nightmares Chapter 8

John fought to make sense of the scene presented before him, as Doctor Carson and Rodney appeared. They seemed concerned, and then something would happen that would make him see that they were wraith. Was it a hologram? A poor one if the wraith were trying to copy Carson and Rodney.

“Colonel Sheppard?” John had to hand it to them – the wraith that is. They had the brogue down.

He flicked his eyes over to the scientist who stood there, worried. Again, a haze appeared that gave the scientist almost wraithlike qualities. Against his will, he snuggled up closer to the wall, where he gripped a pillow and a sheet. He doubted that the wraith would be unnerved by such things – but he hadn’t seen a wraith feed through clothing. Yet.

“Colonel...it’s just me. Doctor Carson.” John recognized the brogue, but still, the wraith haze hung around.

“Yeah…that’s exactly what you want me to think,” he managed to slur out. He couldn’t help it. When faced with imminent danger or death, his cynical side always came out. That and the bad nightmares created a dangerous Sheppard.

“John…” the scientist spoke up a little hesitantly, “We’re here to help you. Carson says you’ve been having nightmares – heck, you’ve told me that. We just want to help you.” They both approached, slowly.

“Don’t…” he tried to say, but a quick flash to his left proved just how slow he was in reacting. A sharp pinch came from his arm, at the same time the doctor apologized. A moment later and the scene dissolved into darkness.

For how long he was out, only the doctor could say.

John blinked blearily, feeling for the first time, semi-awake enough to actually open his eyes. He could hear the heart monitor beeping, and knew that he was in the infirmary. He caught sight of a figure beside him, and then something tugged gently at his arm, and he succumbed to sleep once again.

Carson watched his patiently closely, making sure he gave him enough of the drug-induced sleep so that the Colonel would catch up on the missed sleep. It would be intriguing to figure out just how little sleep the Colonel had gotten the past week.

“How is he, Carson?” The doctor turned to gaze upon the worried Doctor Weir.

“I have him sleeping for the moment, but I’ll be letting him wake up on his own tomorrow morning. Hopefully we can get him back on a semi-normal schedule.” Carson frowned, looking at the sleeping John.

“Even after all this sleep?” inquired Elizabeth dubiously.

“Even in my med classes, we’ve never experimented with loss of sleep this severe. I’ve heard of lack of sleep promoting hallucinations – but apparently this has been going on for some time. It’s a miracle his body hasn’t shut down due to exhaustion.” Carson composed himself, smiling encouragingly at Elizabeth. “He’ll be fine, the colonel’s a strong man and he’ll pull through.” Softly, he added, “He always does.”

John awoke slowly, blinking his eyes. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have said he’d been sedated. Slowly he moved his fingers, arms, and legs, checking for any signs of injury that might have landed him in the infirmary.

Footsteps approached and John pushed himself upright, feeling the tug of an IV line on his right arm.

“Good morning, Colonel Sheppard, how are you feeling?”

John took a moment to assess himself, mentally and physically.

“I feel good,” he said a bit unsure. “Why am I here?”

Carson eyed him for a moment before shaking his head.

“You were a wee bit tired. You’ve had an eventful week.”

John shook his head, not quite comprehending what Carson was talking about.

“A week has passed? Did I sleep through it all?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers.

“Actually, John, you were awake enough to react instinctively. You were hallucinating - ” The sudden sharp sigh from John silenced Carson into a worried and alert doctor.

“I thought it had all been a…dream,” he finished lamely. Leave it to him to screw things up. “Did I…do anything reckless?” He knew the answer before he asked the question.

“Well, you didn’t hurt anyone, per se, but you did add a little more excitement to routine missions.”

“Oh god…don’t tell me I actually went on a mission…” John buried his head into his hands, realizing how much he had possibly screwed up the mission.

“Actually, it all turned out okay, though that last day or two you were beginning to lose it. Nothing happened, John. You’re better. Just make sure you get some sleep. And food.”

John could feel the doctor’s eyes burrowing into him, and suddenly he remembered where he was. He quickly dropped his hands and looked expectantly at Carson.

“Can I go?” Carson smiled at the colonel’s sudden change in disposition. John Sheppard was back, for the moment.

“Not just yet, I insist that you eat something now.” Almost immediately, a tray was set before John, loaded with a bowl of oatmeal. John had no choice but to eat, as he downed the meal. He didn’t enjoy eating with an audience, but if it made the doc happy…

At last he finished, and he looked up at Carson, even as the tray was lifted away.

“Happy now?” He inquired, not able to hide the sarcasm in his tone.

“I will be monitoring your sleeping habits, okay, colonel? At least for the better part of a week, however, I’m sure that’ll be more comfortable in your own quarters rather than the infirmary.”

John could hardly believe his ears, even as Carson withdrew the IV.

“Oh, and one last thing, I want you to see Kate.”

“Sure, I’ll set up an appointment with her in a day…” John trailed off as Carson seemed to be looking a bit too expectant.

“Actually, colonel, I took the liberty of already assigning you an appointment…you’re to see her in five minutes.” John saw the smirk on Carson’s face, and couldn’t blame the man. The doc was intuitive and knew him inside and out – both metaphorically and unfortunately, literally.

John walked slowly to Kate’s office, wondering and dreading what they were going to speak about.

“Why John, what a surprise to see you.” Kate stood upon his entering the room, and John bit back a tart response. It wasn’t Kate’s fault that she was the psychiatrist – not that he’d like to listen to other people’s problems.

“You too, Kate,” he muttered unwillingly.

“Have a seat,” she offered, sitting down as he did. “I know you don’t want to be here, and you probably feel like Carson went behind your back to do this, but he – we – are worried about you.” John sat there like a doll, nodding mutely. He didn’t have anything to say, yet, and was just waiting until Kate got to the point.

“So, I’ve heard you’ve been having nightmares…anything you’d like to share?” She got to the point already.

“No,” he shook his head. Unfortunately, he recalled a fragment of a dream, lingering about.

“Sometimes when people dream, or have nightmares, it’s because they refuse to let go of the past. They may think that they have accepted a situation or event, but what they don’t realize is that their subconscious keeps on playing scenarios.

“Such as when someone drops a dollar bill: at the time, you might take it and keep it, thinking it’s just a dollar. But maybe a day passes, or a week, and you begin to feel guilty about it. Even though it’s a single dollar, your mind begins to play different versions of what might have happened. Perhaps you may have given it back – in that case would the person have given you the bill as a reward or would they have simply thanked you and continued on their way? What if they had needed the bill for something like transportation? What if they had never dropped the bill? Did the dollar signify anything significant? These are just a few of the millions of thoughts your mind begins to play.

“Even when you think you’ve accepted the fact that you’ve just ‘stolen’ a dollar, your subconscious slips into overdrive and before you know it, you’re calling yourself a criminal.”

Kate paused and watched as John seemed to be wrestling with his own demons.

“You don’t know what it’s like…” he muttered, almost too quiet to be heard.

“What what’s like, John?” She spoke softly, afraid to interrupt him.

“To lose a comrade, to know you could have saved him, but instead to hasten his own death…” John’s voice faded to a whisper and cracked.

“You mean Colonel Sumner?” Kate was a bit struck by this sudden confrontation of his demons. John jerked, then shivered.

“I…killed him.” His voice was flat. His head was buried in his hands, preventing Kate from seeking out his eyes and also to hide his emotion.

“Yes, you did,” Kate hated to say, but she continued. “But because you did so, you terminated his suffering at the hands of a wraith. You also took out the wraith. It was because of Colonel Sumner’s death that we are successful against the wraith.”

“Successful.” John snorted. “What’s so successful? I’ve killed more people than I care to admit.”

“You kill because you are a warrior, John. You are in the military. You are a fighter pilot. And yes, you are in another galaxy. Anything can happen, but blaming yourself isn’t going to get you past what’s happened. Likewise, blaming others isn’t going to cure you either. Rather, you have to find solid ground where you can stand and believe yourself.” An idea occurred to Kate. “Why did you kill Colonel Marshall Sumner?”

John flinched at the name and memory, but it did the trick of getting him to raise his head and meet her eyes with a glare.

“I couldn’t let the wraith feed off him. I didn’t want to kill-” Kate interrupted again.

“Listen to yourself, John. You ‘didn’t want to kill’, you did the most self-sacrificing thing in such a situation. It wasn’t your fault that Sumner was caught by the wraith, or that he was fed upon – but rather your decision was to put him out of his misery. I don’t know what you call it, but what I call it is humanity.”

“I call it murder.” John muttered softly.

“Murder is killing in cold blood. Did you hate Sumner?”

“No.” The voice was firm.

“Did you respect him?”

“Yes.”

“Then what you did was not murder. It was a significant event that was even more tragic by the fact that it happened when we first arrived in Atlantis. He was a casualty of war and we are at war, John. Good people die in war, and we are currently at war with the Wraith. His death sparked our desire to get out and defeat the wraith, to go approach worlds we might have left alone.” Kate paused, letting the colonel soak in her words. “Will you ever forget your commanding officer?”

Suddenly John rose and squared his shoulders. He looked her firm in the eyes.

“No.” And with that, the colonel left her office.

Kate smiled to herself, letting the silence settle on her like a cloak of calmness. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to find that the time had flown by. She hoped that the colonel would quit berating himself and that the nightmares would cease – but she knew that it was only up to the colonel.

“Confront your fears,” Kate whispered softly, knowingly.

A/N: Okay, well I didn’t mean to write so much of Kate, but apparently, my psychological side came out stronger than I had expected. I figured it might be what Kate would have said, but may have gone overboard. Did I do okay? Too much? Too little? Poor Sheppard, being forced to sit through her speech. Hopefully he’ll take her words to heart…maybe. We’ll see next chapter. (Oh, and I have no idea where this story is going…I’m trying to take it full circle, but this chapter took me four tries to write! Go figure, it’s 11 pm.)