SUMMARY: And even though Colonel Sheppard had made the call, he knew it was
still all his fault. Tag for Misbegotten. Carson + team fic.
SEASON/SPOILERS: Season 3. Tag for Misbegotten.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not a doctor, but medical stuff well is researched with some dramatic licensing, but nothing worse than what we'd see on the show, really.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or anything associated with it. I'm simply borrowing, but I promise to return all in one piece. Eventually.
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John Sheppard met Elizabeth Weir in her office the moment the Daedalus touched down and unloaded.
He knew Beckett had been beamed down to his infirmary once they'd been in range. Rodney, Teyla, and Ronan had given Elizabeth a brief greeting in the control room before heading towards the infirmary and John should have done the same, but instead he'd hung back and followed Elizabeth to her office. He was avoiding Beckett, no doubt. During the twelve-hour trip home, he'd entered the Daedalus infirmary once, to find Carson asleep. But even then, Beckett's harbored guilt was written all over his face. He had quickly left. John hid his guilt better; in fact, if he were honest with himself, he was quite the master at it. Therefore he knew he wasn't quite ready to face it this time around and he certainly would have to during a visit with a conscious Carson.
Elizabeth stood behind her desk, her fingertips resting on a large stack of paperwork. "We have no idea if any of them survived, do we?"
"No," he confirmed. "McKay did manage to fire a hell of a lot of ammo down on the planet before we abandoned the hive ship, but to be honest, we were a little focused on saving our own asses to pay attention to what happened to anyone else. And then after that, Beckett passed out, so…"
"So you took care of Carson, of course. I'm on my way to the infirmary to see him." She sighed. "The IOA might regret keeping me in command here once they read this report."
John shook his head. "I supported your decision, Elizabeth, and I still support it, despite what happened with Carson. And I'll put something in my report that will convince that Woolsey guy to back off."
Elizabeth smiled. "Defending my honor again, John Sheppard?"
"Not really," he responded, "since I promised they'd be no head knocking, after all."
"Right," she agreed, nodding. "I expect your full report on my desk tomorrow. But for now, I assume you might want to accompany me to the infirmary?"
"Actually," he countered. "I have something else I have to do first." She gave him a raised eyebrow and he knew she could see his reluctance. Elizabeth was not an easy woman to lie to, that was for sure. He gave her a forced smile. "I don't think I'm the person Carson really wants to see right now."
"I'm sure you're wrong about that, John. We certainly didn't want it to end the way it did."
Her "we" clearly included him, he knew, but he wasn't too sure it should. He'd wanted to get his people off that planet as quickly as possible, even if that meant that some humanized Wraiths might revert once they ran out of Beckett's drug and feed on those that didn't revert fast enough.
He had hated leaving Carson behind, especially after finding Lanthan dead. And that was the real reason he felt guilty. If he'd convinced Carson to leave, Michael won't have had an opportunity to probe his mind and the failsafe device would have worked as planned, if it had even been needed.
Which he had thought all along it would be. It was why he'd insisted on it. Perhaps the fact that that piece of information didn't bother him more should be more disturbing, but it wasn't. Not to him.
They were at war and the Wraith was the enemy. Erasing memories and transforming them into human flesh didn't erase any of the horrible things they'd done. Sure they seemed like less of a threat that way, but even that wasn't really true, as Michael had proven. No, more and more he was with Ronon on this one.
For a moment, he wondered what would have happened if Ronon had killed Michael the first time he'd had the chance.
"No we didn't," he finally said to Elizabeth. "Just another busy day in the Pegasus galaxy." He paused. "Look, head to the infirmary to check on Carson. I'm going to stop by my quarters and I'll be there in a bit."
Elizabeth looked like she didn't believe a word he said, but she nodded and let him leave. He headed in the direction of the residential part of Atlantis, but found himself making a slight detour past the mess hall and out to its closest balcony. It was nighttime on Atlantis, and dozens of stars dotted the sky. He looked up at them, knowing that one of them might be the planet they'd just escaped.
/"We had this discussion before, Doc. There's no choice."/
No choice. It was his job to make the decisions that protected his team. Though it got down to the wire, this one had protected his team. And while Beckett might not be an assigned member of his team, but John had long considered him an honorary one since the only times Beckett went off world really was with them. Still, Carson wasn't a soldier anymore than Rodney was. Carson's profession, by nature, was not going to let him choose any path that led to the loss of life. John knew it had taken months for Carson to recover from what happened on Hoff, and even then, he knew the doctor hadn't forgotten.
No one ever forgot. You just simply learned to live with it, instead. John would have never had survived Afghanistan if he hadn't had that mentality. He wasn't sorry for his choices. He was just sorry he found himself in the position to have to make them in the first place.
He wasn't sure exactly how long he stared at the sky, but it must have been a while as he heard the clatter of dishes in the nearby cafeteria, as the staff started to filter in to prepare for breakfast. He cast one last look at the sky before grabbing his radio and positioning it in his ear.
He'd only gotten a few feet down the hall when Elizabeth's voice tapped in. "Colonel Sheppard."
"Look, I promise I'm coming, Elizabeth. I'll be there-"
"John, Dr. Harper is taking Carson into surgery."
Surgery? Morrison's team or not, he never should have left Carson behind on that planet. Elizabeth was still talking over the radio, but he paid little attention and made a beeline for the infirmary.
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Carson had thankfully been beamed down to the Atlantis infirmary without much of an audience. Rodney, Teyla, and Ronan had reappeared at his bedside shortly before they'd arrived in range, but were sent to the control room to meet Elizabeth Weir, no doubt, so only Jenkins had accompanied him. And the Daedalus physician was more than glad to hand his care off to Dr. Biro as quickly as possible. It had taken Carol Biro less than ten minutes to do her initial exam and get Carson under the scanner.
He tried to not think of anything as he watched the device run its beam over his aching head. He was still dizzy and didn't want to admit it, and had barely passed the last two of Jenkins' neuro exams. But mainly he was tired, physically and emotionally. The physical could heal, he knew. It was the emotional weariness that he feared.
Ten minutes after the scan was complete, he studied the IV needle in his hand as Carol went over the results.
"There is evidence of bleeding."
Carson's head picked up sharply at her words. He hissed at the pain that flared from the action.
"But the CT…"
"Was done eleven hours ago," Biro countered. "This looks new, so I'm not surprised it wasn't seen on a typical CT. It doesn't look too serious at this point and may stop on its own, but we don't have much data to work with when it comes to Wraith mind probing, you know. I'm going to get Rob Harper to come down and take a look."
He blinked. Rob Harper was a surgeon on his staff, with expertise in trauma and neurosurgery. "No reason to call him in if it's minor. I'm much more coherent than I was a few hours ago."
"So you admit you were incoherent earlier?" Biro asked with a raise of her eyebrow as she scribbled a few words across his chart. He make a mental note to grab for it the second he could. "It's a consult, Carson. You'd do the same. Harper is on in a half-hour anyway."
"I have a headache, Carol. Not a bloody-"
An intense wave of pain hit his forehead, amplifying his headache to an unbearable level. He closed his eyes, his hand going to for his temple. He heard the monitors behind him beeping unhappily behind him.
/"How many years of your life will I have to take away before you tell me what I want to know?"/
His hand was eased down to the blankets and Biro was calling across the infirmary.
/"Look, they don't tell me this sort of thing. I'm just a doctor."/
As quickly as the pain started, it faded. He felt the band of the automatic BP cuff tighten again around his arm as he blinked his eyes back open, letting the flashback fade into background. The miserable, but not completely unbearable, headache remained. He was, however, now extremely dizzy and the only thing kept him from closing his eyes again was the look on Biro's face.
She was not happy.
Neither was Rob Harper when the less-then-pleasant man arrived at his bedside moments later. He studied the scanner images with decidedly miffed look on his face, though Carson had to wonder if it was any different than his normal expression. Harper was known for his impressive surgical skills, not his bedside manner. The man's true lack of social skills sometimes reminded Carson of Rodney. Therefore, it was unsurprising that Rodney and Harper did not get along. Rodney would only allow Carson to examine him after one experience that was only noted in his chart by Harper as "disagreeable."
If he could remember that detail, Carson figured his long-term memory was fine. He'd finally remembered the events that occurred after Sheppard's team had rescued him, even if they told him things he'd rather have forgotten. But Michael...if only he could remember what Michael had…
A brief sharp stabbing pain hit his forehead at the mere thought of Michael. Through the pain he vaguely wondered why? He given up the failsafe, had to, hadn't he? Could he remember? Or was there something keeping him from remembering?
Harper flashed a penlight in his right eye when that thought occurred to him. He winced, turning from it, but Harper's reflexes were faster and he reached a hand out, turning Carson's head back into the light.
"Something won't let me remember," Carson told him, knowing the thought would likely confuse the surgeon.
Sure enough, the man gave him an odd look. Behind him, Biro also looked confused. "Something won't let you remember what?" Harper repeated.
"Every time I try and remember what Michael," he paused, gritting his teeth and squinting his eyes at the pain Michael's name seemed to bring, "did or got from me, I-" The room span, the dizziness that had plagued him growing. He swallowed against the nausea that started to form in the pit of his stomach.
"I need to-" He stopped short; the nausea and vertigo packed quite a punch. He didn't relish the thought of vomiting. And if he had his way, he would not be doing it.
Harper and Biro wore twin expressions of concern.
/"You're exactly what I need."/
Carson realized a moment too late he wasn't going to get his way. Biro, bless her heart, had the foresight to shove a basin under his chin just in time for him to dry heave into it. After he was done, he laid back, feeling utterly spent. The room was still spinning, his head still pounding. His breathing hitched and he felt someone replace the oxygen cannula he'd convinced Biro he didn't need before she'd put him under the scanner.
Something was wrong and this time, he wasn't too sure it was simply emotional.
"I want another scan," Harper said. "Now."
Part 4