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castaliaSo, yeah, there's this new fandom that has eaten my brain utterly...
Title: The Path to a Doctor's Heart is Laden with Head Injuries
by Castalia
Rating: PG
Pairing: pre-slash, Beckett/McKay
Missing scene for Suspicion, spoilers for rest of first season.
Dedication: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tiamatschild, who has given me so many pressies that it's high time I returned the favor; and to cimmerianwillow, for the beta and continuing encouragement.
"Medical team to the gateroom!" Weir’s voice on the ‘com system startled Doctor Carson Beckett from his position above a specimen tray, sending him rushing out of the medical lab, grabbing for fresh gloves and a trauma kit on his way.
Nine missions. Only nine missions since the Atlantis crew had begun searching new worlds for power sources and other assets, and five of those had resulted in injury. So far nothing worse than scrapes and bruises, and the only loss of life had been Colonel Sumner, but it was an unsettling ratio, and not the most encouraging start to their adventures in Pegasus. After all, Carson and his team were limited to the supplies brought from Earth, and unless a journey home became possible, or perhaps a more advanced culture found where such things could be bought or traded, they would eventually run out. No one in Atlantis had the abilities to synthesize medicines, construct equipment from raw materials, or even build a basic band-aid.
However, currently there was a more pressing matter commanding his attention. Dismissing administrative worries from his mind, Carson entered the gateroom at a run, focusing instead on who would be revealed as his next patient. Upon viewing the sprawled figure, Beckett blinked in complete non-surprise.
Rodney.
Of course.
Again.
The good doctor seemed to be vying with Major Sheppard for the Most Visits to the Infirmary title. Three months out, and he’d practically bivouacked in his own corner of Carson’s domain. Luckily, not all that time was spent occupying a hospital bed, but his chart already listed two fainting spells - the proper medical term, of course, no matter how much Rodney might protest - treatments for exhaustion and low electrolyte levels, and a bit of nausea in reaction to the gene therapy he’d received.
Carson skidded to a halt at the prone man’s side, promptly dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. Slower than normal but not weak. Respiration shallow but steady, pupils equal and reactive. No visible injuries or blood...
"Rodney, can you hear me? Rodney!" Carson spoke sharply and patted McKay’s cheek, but there was no response. He looked to Major Sheppard for a report.
The man appeared worried but relatively calm. "He took a shot from one of those Wraith weapons full on in the face. Dropped like a stone. I got hit with one on the Wraith ship - hurt like a bitch, but I was only out for a few minutes. ‘Course, I wasn’t shot in the head..."
"Thank you, Major, let’s not be fatalistic about this." Carson tried for flippant but only achieved chiding. He was concerned about Rodney being in an unconscious state once again after such a short time; any blackouts were unhealthy. Receiving a jolt of energy to the brain was classified as "bad, try to avoid that", no matter how much the SGC teams had gotten used to them.
"Let’s get him up." Beckett motioned to two of his staff, who took the legs and middle of Rodney’s limp form, Carson gently lifting the head and shoulders himself. Once back in the infirmary, a room chosen for its close proximity to the gateroom, McKay was given oxygen and hooked up to the EEG to monitor his brain activity.
"How is he?" Major Sheppard stood by, careful to stay out of the way of the machines.
"Stable. It looks like the energy weapon overloaded his system. It wasn’t enough to halt involuntary functions like breathing, or do any permanent damage, but that sort of shock to the central nervous system is bound to keep him on his back for at least a few hours. The Wraith weapons are not designed to kill, only stun, which makes sense as they need live prey in order to...feed." An expression of distaste darkened Carson’s features at the thought. "The shock prevents the brain from sending messages to the muscles, thus causing temporary paralysis. Not unlike a zat’ weapon, actually. He should be fine, once it wears off."
"Ah, that explains the tingly feeling afterwards. Gotcha." A smile of relief accompanied Sheppard’s joking tone at Beckett’s words. Carson approved of the man; thrust so quickly into the position of ranking officer, the major was proving quite capable of leadership, not only of the military personnel of Atlantis, but of his own team. He obviously cared for each member, but having a civilian - one with no prior combat experience, at that - under his command in the field invoked a heightened sense of responsibility. Carson was sure McKay’s tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time was no boon for Sheppard’s stress levels.
"He’ll likely be unconscious for a while yet, Major. If you like, I can notify you when he comes to."
"You do that. I wouldn’t want to miss the show." Flashing his habitual smirk, Sheppard turned and strolled out of the infirmary.
Once alone, Carson leaned against Rodney’s bed and gazed fondly down at the man who was quickly becoming his closest - and certainly his most entertaining - friend in the city (or, more accurately, in not one but two galaxies). Irritating and obnoxious as the physicist admittedly might be, the two scientists shared a similar love for knowledge and verbal repartee which formed the basis for many lengthy discussions, both illuminating and amusing. After months in Antarctica and now three more in Atlantis, they had spent countless hours working together, and had covered a vast variety of subjects.
Ancients knew Rodney loved to talk.
Carson couldn’t help smiling once again at the turn his rumination had taken. He reached for the pulse point at Rodney’s neck, despite the machines monitoring his heartbeat and other vital signs, and the fact that he had checked only minutes before. It would be at least another hour still before McKay would start to awaken, and the rest would probably do him some good. The quirky Canadian had a tendency to burn the midnight oil, the ancient city offering more distractions than could be investigated in years of study. Carson turned back to his table and his microscope, settling in to wait for his friend to return to consciousness.
He certainly wanted to be present when Rodney discovered he couldn’t move or talk. After all, with the man absent on a mission that day, Carson had yet to have a good laugh.
x-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
beckett_mckay
Title: The Path to a Doctor's Heart is Laden with Head Injuries
by Castalia
Rating: PG
Pairing: pre-slash, Beckett/McKay
Missing scene for Suspicion, spoilers for rest of first season.
Dedication: For
tiamatschild, who has given me so many pressies that it's high time I returned the favor; and to cimmerianwillow, for the beta and continuing encouragement."Medical team to the gateroom!" Weir’s voice on the ‘com system startled Doctor Carson Beckett from his position above a specimen tray, sending him rushing out of the medical lab, grabbing for fresh gloves and a trauma kit on his way.
Nine missions. Only nine missions since the Atlantis crew had begun searching new worlds for power sources and other assets, and five of those had resulted in injury. So far nothing worse than scrapes and bruises, and the only loss of life had been Colonel Sumner, but it was an unsettling ratio, and not the most encouraging start to their adventures in Pegasus. After all, Carson and his team were limited to the supplies brought from Earth, and unless a journey home became possible, or perhaps a more advanced culture found where such things could be bought or traded, they would eventually run out. No one in Atlantis had the abilities to synthesize medicines, construct equipment from raw materials, or even build a basic band-aid.
However, currently there was a more pressing matter commanding his attention. Dismissing administrative worries from his mind, Carson entered the gateroom at a run, focusing instead on who would be revealed as his next patient. Upon viewing the sprawled figure, Beckett blinked in complete non-surprise.
Rodney.
Of course.
Again.
The good doctor seemed to be vying with Major Sheppard for the Most Visits to the Infirmary title. Three months out, and he’d practically bivouacked in his own corner of Carson’s domain. Luckily, not all that time was spent occupying a hospital bed, but his chart already listed two fainting spells - the proper medical term, of course, no matter how much Rodney might protest - treatments for exhaustion and low electrolyte levels, and a bit of nausea in reaction to the gene therapy he’d received.
Carson skidded to a halt at the prone man’s side, promptly dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. Slower than normal but not weak. Respiration shallow but steady, pupils equal and reactive. No visible injuries or blood...
"Rodney, can you hear me? Rodney!" Carson spoke sharply and patted McKay’s cheek, but there was no response. He looked to Major Sheppard for a report.
The man appeared worried but relatively calm. "He took a shot from one of those Wraith weapons full on in the face. Dropped like a stone. I got hit with one on the Wraith ship - hurt like a bitch, but I was only out for a few minutes. ‘Course, I wasn’t shot in the head..."
"Thank you, Major, let’s not be fatalistic about this." Carson tried for flippant but only achieved chiding. He was concerned about Rodney being in an unconscious state once again after such a short time; any blackouts were unhealthy. Receiving a jolt of energy to the brain was classified as "bad, try to avoid that", no matter how much the SGC teams had gotten used to them.
"Let’s get him up." Beckett motioned to two of his staff, who took the legs and middle of Rodney’s limp form, Carson gently lifting the head and shoulders himself. Once back in the infirmary, a room chosen for its close proximity to the gateroom, McKay was given oxygen and hooked up to the EEG to monitor his brain activity.
"How is he?" Major Sheppard stood by, careful to stay out of the way of the machines.
"Stable. It looks like the energy weapon overloaded his system. It wasn’t enough to halt involuntary functions like breathing, or do any permanent damage, but that sort of shock to the central nervous system is bound to keep him on his back for at least a few hours. The Wraith weapons are not designed to kill, only stun, which makes sense as they need live prey in order to...feed." An expression of distaste darkened Carson’s features at the thought. "The shock prevents the brain from sending messages to the muscles, thus causing temporary paralysis. Not unlike a zat’ weapon, actually. He should be fine, once it wears off."
"Ah, that explains the tingly feeling afterwards. Gotcha." A smile of relief accompanied Sheppard’s joking tone at Beckett’s words. Carson approved of the man; thrust so quickly into the position of ranking officer, the major was proving quite capable of leadership, not only of the military personnel of Atlantis, but of his own team. He obviously cared for each member, but having a civilian - one with no prior combat experience, at that - under his command in the field invoked a heightened sense of responsibility. Carson was sure McKay’s tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time was no boon for Sheppard’s stress levels.
"He’ll likely be unconscious for a while yet, Major. If you like, I can notify you when he comes to."
"You do that. I wouldn’t want to miss the show." Flashing his habitual smirk, Sheppard turned and strolled out of the infirmary.
Once alone, Carson leaned against Rodney’s bed and gazed fondly down at the man who was quickly becoming his closest - and certainly his most entertaining - friend in the city (or, more accurately, in not one but two galaxies). Irritating and obnoxious as the physicist admittedly might be, the two scientists shared a similar love for knowledge and verbal repartee which formed the basis for many lengthy discussions, both illuminating and amusing. After months in Antarctica and now three more in Atlantis, they had spent countless hours working together, and had covered a vast variety of subjects.
Ancients knew Rodney loved to talk.
Carson couldn’t help smiling once again at the turn his rumination had taken. He reached for the pulse point at Rodney’s neck, despite the machines monitoring his heartbeat and other vital signs, and the fact that he had checked only minutes before. It would be at least another hour still before McKay would start to awaken, and the rest would probably do him some good. The quirky Canadian had a tendency to burn the midnight oil, the ancient city offering more distractions than could be investigated in years of study. Carson turned back to his table and his microscope, settling in to wait for his friend to return to consciousness.
He certainly wanted to be present when Rodney discovered he couldn’t move or talk. After all, with the man absent on a mission that day, Carson had yet to have a good laugh.
x-posted to
beckett_mckay