Debugged
By K Hanna Korossy
They stayed in shifts.
I'd only learn later that Doc had me sedated those first few days, until I was human enough that the inhibitors could work safely. Even then I drifted in and out, mostly out; turning into a bug could take a lot out of you.
But one of them was always there when I woke up, and it didn't connect until later that they'd actually worked it out like that. Teyla would stay mornings, exercising or reading. Ronon had afternoons, playing the Gameboy one of my guys had foolishly introduced him to. And McKay stayed nights, eating or working on his laptop or both. I slept most of the time, dreaming wild dreams that weren't mine, was fuzzy when I was awake, but I knew one of them would always be there, like a kid whose parents stayed with him while he was in the hospital so he wouldn't be scared. Like they'd read my mind.
The first time I was clear enough to put two words together, McKay was there, chewing on a chocolate bar and tapping away at that eternal laptop. I just watched him for a long time, wondering...well, about a lot of things. But not ready to ask yet. Finally, I just made an effort to grin and said, "Hey, McKay." My voice didn't sound like me.
Apparently, it surprised him, too, because he choked on his bite, coughing and hacking and turning red. I reached out a hand to thump him on the back. I didn't realize until too late it was grey and scaly.
He recoiled from it. And I instantly dropped it back on the bed, casually pretending I hadn't meant to touch him or noticed his reaction.
"Colonel Sheppard." He looked flustered. "You're awake." It didn't sound like he'd expected that to happen. That made two of us.
"What happened?" I asked tiredly. It wasn't what I really wanted to know, but I couldn't bring myself to ask just yet.
"Oh. Uh, you collected enough eggs from the nest that...well, I don't really know what Carson did, but it's working. Another week or so and you should be back to what we generously consider normal."
Well, that was good. And there was relief, believe me. But it was buried under an awful lot of junk, and that was hard to see past. I closed my eyes, weary to the bone.
"You didn't hurt anybody, John, I promise."
His tone had changed completely, quiet and earnest, which right there was a tip-off how bad it had been. But it was the "John" that bounced around my head, dredging up a memory of Teyla, and shame. And even though he'd relieved my biggest question, I cringed.
A hand curled around my arm, a little above my wrist. I didn't realize how hungry I'd been for human contact until there it was. Or at least mostly human; we could both feel the rough, hardened skin under the fabric of the scrubs, but he didn't pull away this time. "You're going to be fine, you just need to get some more sleep. One of us will be here."
I don't know if it was the words or the firm belief behind them or the unflinching contact, but something in me relaxed a little. I didn't believe for a second I would be fine, not really, but I started to think maybe I could at least survive this. That was something.
He didn't let go as I drifted off again. And for the first time, I didn't dream.
******
The next time I woke up, it was to Teyla sitting in McKay's chair, reading a book. One of the first things she'd wanted to do when she'd gotten to Atlantis was learn to read. I wasn't a teacher, but I'd volunteered to show her the basics, and then she'd really taken off. She was already halfway through War & Peace, while I was still on the first fifty pages.
She knew I was awake, I could feel it, but neither of us was in a hurry to say anything, so I kept watching her and she kept reading.
Then, without even a sideways glance, she reached over and slipped her hand into mine. Into my grotesque, buggy, dead-looking hand.
She was on my team, one of my people. It was probably inappropriate, although not as much as what I thought I'd remembered doing to her earlier. But as my fingers wrapped around hers, I don't think I could've let go if my life depended on it. Maybe in a way, it did.
I went back to sleep without either of us saying a word.
******
My hand lay empty when I drifted back again and, considering Ronon was there now, that was a good thing. He looked me over frankly, then went back to the Gameboy. "Feeling better?"
"Not really," I answered honestly. Having your DNA rewritten twice in a week was probably not the best thing for you, and I felt it in every aching cell of my body. Speaking of which... I eyed Ronon. "You shot me, didn't you?"
His mouth tugged with amusement as he kept playing. "Twice."
"Twice?" I repeated, surprised. "Was that really necessary?"
Ronon shrugged. "The first time you were loose in the city. Second time, you were running out of the cave with the eggs. Didn't have much choice."
"Right," I drawled. I really missed Ford sometimes. "And of course you didn't enjoy it even a little bit."
"Not really," he echoed me. I was kinda surprised to see he meant it.
I rolled back on the bed to look up at the ceiling. "Look...Weir and the rest of them are going to try to sugarcoat it, but I need to know what happened exactly, what I did."
Ronon's eyebrow went up. "Now?"
"Now," I said, before I changed my mind.
He considered that, then clicked off the Gameboy. And started talking.
I think I fell asleep near the end, but by then I'd heard enough. God, I'd heard enough.
******
I knew I was awake because there was the soft tapping of keys again. McKay's shift.
My head felt a little clearer, and as I opened my eyes, the weird light distortion I'd almost gotten used to was gone. My eyes ached in its wake, but I was guessing they were hazel again and that was a good thing. A small drop in the bucket of my misery, but still a good thing. No use scaring the kids more than I had to.
"So what are you working on now?" I asked softly. "Proving Einstein wrong? P v. NP?"
Rodney flushed, almost making me smile. Some things hadn't changed, even in my turned upside-down world. "Solitaire, actually. Elizabeth got me started. I know there's a trick to it, I just haven't..."
I did find a smile then, tiny and foreign. "I'll show you a few later. What time is it?"
"Uh..." I should've remembered, geniuses don't wear watches. Rodney actually patted himself down briefly as if he might have tucked one into a pocket and forgotten about it. He finally shrugged. "Middle of the night sometime. Thursday, if it makes a difference."
I couldn't remember what day Ellia had bit me, so it didn't. I just turned back to that fascinating ceiling and sighed. "Ronon filled in some blanks for me."
That apparently trumped Solitaire; I could hear him set the laptop aside. "Oh. Well, that's good, right? Better the devil you know and all that?"
I shrugged one-shouldered, conceding the point. "Elizabeth been by?" I asked, trying to sound off-handed.
"Actually, yes. She doesn't blame you for what happened, Colonel--no one does. In fact, considering what you were fighting--"
"Just...stow it, Rodney, okay?"
I could feel his hesitation, his nod. The senses were still tuned a little high. I could've probably still beaten Ronon in another race if I hadn't felt as weak as a newborn calf.
Rodney straightened, suddenly sounding cheerful. "I hear you could climb walls and leap across the room in one jump. That must've been cool-how did it feel to be Spiderman?"
I went cold.
I knew he was doing it to try to cheer me up, knew he was upset and worried for me, knew the whole bedside thing really wasn't his specialty and he was doing his best. But it didn't change the fact that his attempt to lighten the mood had just torn a big hole in the dam I'd built to keep out truth I wasn't ready to face.
I'd almost turned into a bug. The creepy crawly things I'd squished under my feet without a thought. Disgusting and animalistic and a threat to my friends and totally out of my control. Not me.
Not human.
My hands, my gray, withered, wall-climbing hands, curled into fists. "Get out."
He'd already realized he'd said something wrong, even the oblivious Rodney McKay not that clueless. He looked stricken, like I'd just shot him, but it was the other way around. "Look, I just meant--"
I cursed him. "Get out!" I was as close to yelling as my mutated throat would allow.
McKay turned and fled.
Leaving me alone for the first time since I'd taken a turn for the animal kingdom, shaking as I fought tears of rage and panic. I'd nearly become an it, had felt my sanity and humanity slip away, my consciousness, my soul. I'd attacked people I cared about and had needed to be restrained. How could I go back to normal after that? How could I look at Elizabeth again and not remember the fear in her eyes, or at the mirror and not see the thing I'd become? How could I live with the fear of it happening again, of the feel of slowly losing myself?
Maybe I'd never really even come back.
Desperate, despairing, I pulled into a ball and, unable to face the world any longer, willed myself to sleep.
******
I wasn't aware of much after that for a while. Teyla showed up again at some point and tried to talk to me, but I ignored her and pulled away when she tried to touch me. Ronon took his turn and left me alone. Rodney steered clear, but by then I was hurting too much to care.
The serious part of the reconversion had finally kicked in. Even as the grey skin retreated hour by hour, my body was screaming with the agony of the fight going on inside it. When I started screaming with it, Beckett finally drugged me again, and I was grateful to go back into the darkness.
I dreamed. Instinctual bug dreams. Weird John Sheppard dreams. Bizarre mixes of the two. And then, slowly, as my body shed itself of the insect part, only dreams of Earth and Wraith and my team and giant Ferris Wheels. Just me again.
Memories slipped in: scaring Elizabeth, the nesting cave, running away from Teyla when she shot at me. The increasing concern on everybody's faces as I changed. Always waking up to someone beside my bed. Looking in the mirror and seeing some thing looking back.
My eyes cracked open and I stared dully at nothing for long seconds before letting them fall shut again.
"Would you like some water?"
It took a minute to place the voice, it was so unusually subdued. Rodney. It didn't matter just then; I felt sick and sore and not up to holding grudges. I nodded, probably pretty weakly.
A hand cupped my chin, coaxing me to accept a straw. I did, sucking with faint enthusiasm until it was pulled away. "Carson said only a little at a time," came the apologetic explanation, and I just nodded again.
Ginger fingers slid under my own, then squeezed with surprising strength. I blinked my eyes open to fuzzily stare.
Rodney looked unshaven, tired, and oddly sad even as he smiled. "He was worried about you--Carson was. We didn't expect..." He winced, then brightened. "Your hand's back to normal. Well, the right one, anyway--the left one's just getting there. It just looks like a bad case of frostbite, or maybe dry skin. Nothing some hand cream won't cure, right?"
He was nervous. Probably scared I was going to throw him out again, but somehow I didn't feel like it. In fact, I managed a faint smile, and saw a relieved one flash across his face in response. This whole thing still sucked, but it wasn't his fault.
He licked his lips, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees but somehow managing not to lose his grip on me. Which was good, because right now that was the only thing keeping me there when sleep and my own doubts kept threatening to pull me down again. "Listen, I don't...I don't really know how to say this, but you need to cut yourself a break over what happened. It wasn't your fault, and--"
My smile turned into a grimace. I really didn't need the pep talk just now, especially not the same one that hadn't really been working for me. I tried to pull my hand away, to curl up and go back to sleep.
"No." Rodney's head lifted and his hand tightened almost painfully on mine, unwilling to let go. "Listen. I get the helplessness thing. I really do, because I've been there a few times myself. Okay, not turning into a bug, but other times I would pay serious money just to forget. But here's the thing: you beat it. You didn't let it turn you into a monster. It couldn't make you attack Teyla, or hurt Elizabeth, or keep you from going into that cave. So just...remember those parts when you remember all the other bad stuff, okay?"
He was actually looking at me, intently. He's never good with the eye contact when he's out of his league, which means just about anything besides science, or when he's worked up about something, and I figured he was both just then. But he was staring hard at me now, wanting me to believe him.
I didn't answer him. I think even my vocal chords were tired. But I managed to move my fingers a little in his determined grasp. It was acknowledgement, anyway, and appreciation, because that was the most I could give him just then. I myself didn't know what I was feeling at that point, and one pep talk wasn't going to break the clouds up, no matter how heartfelt.
But it was heartfelt. And that in itself put a few cracks in the darkness.
I dozed off, and when I woke again, he was still there, hanging on and smiling wearily at me. Seems like I was stuck with them.
Who knew the pull of three scrappy teammates could keep you from sliding further into darkness?
******
The formal shifts broke up after I turned that corner, and I didn't see Ronon a lot after that, although I caught a glimpse of him out in the main infirmary a few times, so he was close. Teyla kept stopping by, bringing me stuff she'd tracked down to keep me occupied: DVDs, an Agatha Christie, a deck of cards. Even Rodney got busier and was often called away, but somehow he usually managed to be there when I was falling asleep, when there were no distractions and plenty of time to think and remember. Usually a sharp "Colonel!" was enough to stop that train in its tracks, and when that didn't work, he'd lean back and put his feet up on the bed, just nudging my leg. I wouldn't let him hold my hand anymore, but he found other ways to anchor me.
But it didn't stop me completely from thinking about it. I had a lot of time to do so.
I refused to blame myself for Parker's and Stevens's deaths. I had wanted to go on that mission instead but, right or wrong, it hadn't been my call. I hated that they died, was sorry about it, but I wasn't going to wear that on my conscience. The rest, however: choking Elizabeth, scaring Teyla, jumping a few of my guys...yeah, that didn't go away overnight. And that was besides the fun of breaking out in a sweat every time I remembered feeling the change happening, and being helpless to stop it.
I kept my promise to Rodney, though, and remembered the rest, too. I'd fought the virus, and I hadn't killed anyone. Maybe it had almost taken me over, replaced me, but it hadn't changed me, John Sheppard. The guy who'd made friends loyal enough to take shifts sitting up with him after he'd gone crazy on them. And you know, that's worth something.
By the time Beckett released me from the infirmary, I could look almost everybody in the eye again. I went to see Teyla and, well, almost apologized for what I'd done. I'd already talked to Elizabeth, even before I remembered everything that had happened between us. Which left one more stop before my own room and bed.
I found him just coming out of a meeting, a moment of sarcasm-free pleasure lighting his face in his surprise to see me. Then the condescension fell back into place. "It's too bad gene therapy can't do something about that hair." He matched his pace to mine, although I didn't know where we were going. Didn't matter, I guess.
"It's good to see you, too, McKay," I agreed pleasantly.
He cast me a sidelong, assessing glance. "You're still pale--did Carson let you out or did you finally dig yourself a tunnel with a Jell-O spoon?"
"The doc gave me a clean bill of health. Well, almost." I rubbed my arm, saw him notice that, too. "No more climbing walls," I reassured him.
"Well...good. I think I prefer the old John Sheppard, even with the hair." He hesitated again, probably a little nervous now that I was free. I didn't take it personally; I was a little nervous about it, too. I knew too well how far I still had to go.
Rodney cleared his throat.
"There's meatloaf for lunch today."
I arched an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?"
"If you're interested," he said quickly.
I'd been looking forward to bed, but I wasn't going to pass up company or food. "Sounds good."
He smiled, just a little, but it was enough. He launched into description of the incompetence of the science staff, nervousness gone, and I soon realized with a start that mine was, too. This was one of the people who'd risked his life to get me a cure, who'd sat with me for days while my body slowly became recognizable again, and who'd I'd gone to lunch with a hundred times in the past. Today was just one more.
Life went on. And me, I was going with it.
