Healing Touch
The
by Setcheti
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never did, but the CD AU is mine all mine. And the jackalope is still running free, untouched by the harsh realities of canon.
A whimper jerks me out of a sound sleep I hadn’t meant to be in, and I reach out with one hand while rubbin’ sleep out of my eyes with the other. Rodney’s upset, from the sound of it, but he’s not hyperventilatin’, thank God – but then he may have been gettin’ ready to panic and feelin’ my hand on him just headed it off. All to the good. I tell him it’s all right, that he’s safe, and then I start rubbin’ his stomach and I feel him relax just a bit.
He can’t move, you see; he’s too bloody weak. When I finally got us settled in here the first thing I did was strip him down so I could examine him properly. The second thing I did, and I’m not ashamed to admit it, was cry over what I was seein’. He’s down to skin and bones. I’d known he’d been losin’ some weight since everythin’ went to Hell in a handbasket on the bloody mission, but this…it’s no wonder the city let him go, there’s just about nothin’ left of him.
And what’s worse, with no instruments, no infirmary…I’ve got no way of findin’ out exactly what kind of damage that infernal machine did to him. I know he’s in pain, I can see it in his face, but I’ve no clue where it’s comin’ from. There’s nothin’ I can do for him except sit here, rubbin’ his stomach and talkin’ to him in hopes that I can soothe him back to sleep. It’s what’s worked before, that time he’d been hit with the Wraith stunner through the Gate. His motor cortex had been paralyzed and he hadn’t been able to move – hadn’t been able to feel anythin’ either. And I hadn’t expected him to wake all the way up until the effect had worn off a bit more.
That was before I’d fully realized that Rodney doesn’t do anythin’ the way you’d expect, of course, and before I’d known he had a flat-out phobia about bein’ paralyzed. He started comin’ around while Sheppard was in checkin’ on him, and like a bloody fool I told the man to stay back from the bed and not touch – I was afraid it would alarm Rodney if he saw we were touchin’ him but he couldn’t feel anythin’. So I told him he was goin’ to be all right, and then Sheppard left and I went to check on another patient. I ignored Rodney callin’ for me; I was hopin’ that what with bein’ bored and not able to do anythin’ about it he would go back to sleep.
Again, more the fool me. What he actually did was have a panic attack that set all the monitors screamin’ and almost sent him back into respiratory arrest from hyperventilatin’ – I’d said he’d be fine, not that he was fine. Melissa got him back on oxygen and turned the alarms off, but he still wasn’t calmin’ down and his heart rate was to the point it was frightenin’ me. Sedatin’ him was out of the question…so what we’d ended up doin’ was touchin’ him. All over. I knew the effect was wearin’ off, so there had to be a spot somewhere that he could feel. It was Melissa who finally found it, on his stomach, and I sat there a good twenty minutes and rubbed that spot like he was a wee baby with colic, talkin’ to him, soothin’ him, until he finally calmed down and fell asleep.
And when I’d stood up, Major Sheppard was standin’ in my infirmary’s door, watchin’ me…watchin’ Rodney. The alarms must have drawn him back, most likely in a panic himself thinkin’ the worst had happened, but when I said everythin’ was under control he just nodded and left again without a word. And I’d been glad that someone else had a care for what happened to Rodney, I’d had some faith then that the major would be lookin’ out for him.
More the fool me, like I already said.