House call by Huggle (First night challenge/Amnesty 06)
Title: House call
Author: Huggle
Pairing: none
Warnings: references to Rising
Word count: 1690
Summary: Carson has one last call to make before he can finally get some sleep.
Carson Beckett closed down his laptop and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Not what he’d expected for their first day in Atlantis, but then he wasn’t really sure what he had been expecting.
Certainly not the monsters he’d heard reports of from the marines he’d checked over after their return through the gate. Wraith. On Earth, it was just a word, some archaic name for a made up creature. Here? Here it was something else and just the look on the faces of the Athosians when someone had uttered it in their presence, not to mention the physiology of the arm he’d had to examine, gave Carson the feeling they were out of their depth here.
But here was where they would stay since they had no way to get home.
Beckett got to his feet, a little unsteadily, now that his adrenalin was wearing off and the fact that he hadn’t slept in at least twenty four hours was catching him up. He wasn’t alone in that respect; there would be a lot of heads gratefully hitting pillows tonight and exhausted people instantly losing themselves to oblivion. The doctor planned to join them.
Outside, Lieutenant Ford was the last marine to leave, pulling on his uniform again. “You turning in, doc?”
Beckett nodded. “Aye. You?”
Ford gave a shrug. Beckett smiled at the look on his face: Aiden looked almost disappointed that the day was coming to a close, even if he’d spent a large portion of it battling terrifying aliens. “I guess. I didn’t see the major, here. Did you get a look at him?”
Carson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. No, Sheppard hadn’t come by the infirmary. He’d been so distracted with all the coming and going that the pilot’s absence had slipped past him. “No, I didn’t.” All the others who’d gone off world had been fine; there was no evidence of anything unusual or dangerous in their blood streams and for those who’d been scooped up by the Wraith ship, there didn’t seem to be any ill effects. He doubted the major would be any different.
“It’s just…,” Aiden shifted uncomfortably. Carson stared bemused at the younger man’s unease. He looked like a small child, expecting an admonishment for something. “Well, it’s just…I think those Wraith slapped him around a little.”
Beckett frowned. “Define a little, lieutenant.”
“When I got there, one of the big ones had him pinned to the table by the throat. Looked like he was trying to choke him or something. And when he rolled off the table…. He looked kind of stiff like he was in pain or something.” Ford raised earnest eyes to him. “I’m surprised he didn’t come by.”
So was Carson. He hoped Sheppard was not going to be the kind of soldier to avoid seeking care for his injuries or if he was ill until he ended up collapsing. Word had it the man was now the ranking military officer since the death of Colonel Sumner so it became even more important to keep him sound.
“Don’t worry,” he told Aiden. “My room’s not far from his, according to this.” He removed a scrap of paper one of the marines had shoved into his hand earlier, a hastily drawn map of the living quarters. “I’ll check on him before I turn in.”
He noted Aiden’s mixed up look, half relieved, half worried. “And I won’t tell him who clued me in.”
Ford grinned. “Thanks, doc. See you tomorrow, ok?”
Beckett bid Ford goodnight and went to retrieve his bag from his office before heading to his room.
Sheppard’s was a few doors down; Beckett let the chime sound for a few moments before he grew worried and started to knock. Not too loudly: he wasn’t sure if these rooms were soundproofed and he didn’t want to wake anyone unnecessarily. But when there was still no answer, Beckett decided he would have to use the ATA gene. He closed his eyes, focused on the door and thought open. To his surprise, it worked.
Beckett stepped inside quietly, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. After a few moments he could make out Sheppard’s bed, and the shape of a sleeping form within. He moved closer, making sure to make no sound.
Sheppard hadn’t even stripped before tumbling into bed, a sure sign how exhausted the man was. He hadn’t even bothered to pull up the blanket. That made his job a little easier. The colonel was lying on his back, both arms tossed carelessly over his head. His face was turned to the wall and even in the darkness Carson could see a hint of lingering tension there, as though the major was on the way back from a bad dream.
But it was his neck that caught Carson’s eye. He asked the city to raise the lights just a little, so as not to disturb the sleeping man any more than necessary. The skin around Sheppard’s throat was starting to mottle; he could distinguish clear, thick finger marks, proving that Ford had been right about that at least. It looked like the Wraith had tried to throttle the major, or at least had pinned him by holding him there.
Beckett tsked the man angrily but was gentle when he touched his shoulder and gave him a light shake. It wouldn’t do to wake a soldier suddenly.
“Major. Major Sheppard. Come on, major, it’s Dr Beckett.”
Sheppard came around slowly, eyes blinking in confusion. “Doc?”
Beckett gave him a comforting smile. “Aye. You missed your check up.”
“Oh,” Sheppard gave a half shrug but stopped the movement suddenly although he tried to hide the pain. “Yeah, I got a little side tracked.”
“Easily done,” Carson said, but he’d already decided to keep an eye on the major in case of future distractions. “But I’m here now so let’s have your clothes off and I’ll give you the quick once over.”
Sheppard propped himself up on his elbows as Carson set his bag down on the bed. “Look, Dr Beckett, I’m fine. I know I should have stopped by, but any chance we can do this in the morning? I’m really zonked.”
Beckett sat down on the bed next to Sheppard and patted his knee. “I can see that, son, but apparently you got into a little tussle with those Wraith things.” Sheppard was suddenly wide awake, forehead furrowed as he realised he’d been ratted out.
“Your neck,” Carson said quickly. “It looks like someone tried to strangle you.”
The major raised a hand self consciously to the bruising. “Oh. No, he…it just pinned me down so I could get a lecture from the boss.”
“No trouble breathing? Is your throat sore?”
He could see Sheppard considering how honest to be. “I can treat you here major, if you’re not keen on coming back to the infirmary.”
“Okay,” Sheppard relented. “Breathing - fine. My throat is a bit painful, though.”
Carson called the lights up higher and examined his neck more closely. “The bruising will be uncomfortable for a few days but I’ll give you some painkillers and a spray you can use for your throat. Now, take your shirt off.”
Sheppard seemed about to protest but caught Beckett’s look and eased the top stiffly over his arms and head. Beckett quickly checked his front then motioned for the man to roll onto his stomach. He tutted as he saw the start of another formidable bruise appearing along the line of Sheppard’s shoulders and spreading down his back.
“What happened there?”
“Got slammed onto the table.” The major said it like it was no big deal.
Carson probed lightly, easing his touch when he managed to draw a sharp inhalation from his patient. Again, like the marks on Sheppard’s throat, there was no sign of real damage. He’d be tender for a few days but it didn’t require any treatment.
“If they get overly sore I want you to come see me, major. We can try icing them. But other than that, just nothing too strenuous. That’s a medical order.”
Sheppard rolled over and sat up. “I may not be able to keep to that, doc. Next few days are going to be hectic.”
Beckett realised how unrealistic his instruction had been. A lot of authority and responsibility had been suddenly thrust onto the pilot’s shoulders. He couldn’t push it away because he’d gotten a little knocked about. He could push it; in medical matters he outranked everyone in Atlantis even the expedition leaders; but it wouldn’t do to get off on the wrong foot with Sheppard and he wanted to reserve pulling rank for a situation that really required it.
“Can we come to a compromise, this once?” Carson suggested. “Just try for me. If something comes up, then fair enough. But keep taking those pills and using the spray and I want to see you back in the infirmary day after tomorrow to see how you’re doing. Okay?”
Sheppard nodded, a little stiffly. “Okay.”
He lay back down and gave Carson a bemused look when the doctor tugged a blanket up over him. As the Scot grabbed his bag and headed to the door, Sheppard called after him, “Thanks.”
Beckett nodded but paused before he left. “Major…these Wraith….”
Sheppard was sitting up again, eyes focused on Carson in the near darkness as the lights dimmed again. “Yeah?”
“Are they really something we’re going to have to worry about?”
Sheppard seemed to be weighing up, again, how honest to be. Finally he nodded. “I’d say so, doc. But for me to worry about, not you. We’ll be okay.”
Carson hesitated. Sheppard couldn’t make that guarantee except there was a fierce determination glimmering in the man’s eyes as though force of will alone could stop the Wraith from ever getting near Atlantis. It was not a guarantee but it was enough for Carson to know he would sleep tonight.
“Alright. Mind what I said, major. Have a good night’s sleep.”
“You, too, doc,” Sheppard murmured drowsily. He was asleep before Beckett had even closed the door.
Author: Huggle
Pairing: none
Warnings: references to Rising
Word count: 1690
Summary: Carson has one last call to make before he can finally get some sleep.
Carson Beckett closed down his laptop and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Not what he’d expected for their first day in Atlantis, but then he wasn’t really sure what he had been expecting.
Certainly not the monsters he’d heard reports of from the marines he’d checked over after their return through the gate. Wraith. On Earth, it was just a word, some archaic name for a made up creature. Here? Here it was something else and just the look on the faces of the Athosians when someone had uttered it in their presence, not to mention the physiology of the arm he’d had to examine, gave Carson the feeling they were out of their depth here.
But here was where they would stay since they had no way to get home.
Beckett got to his feet, a little unsteadily, now that his adrenalin was wearing off and the fact that he hadn’t slept in at least twenty four hours was catching him up. He wasn’t alone in that respect; there would be a lot of heads gratefully hitting pillows tonight and exhausted people instantly losing themselves to oblivion. The doctor planned to join them.
Outside, Lieutenant Ford was the last marine to leave, pulling on his uniform again. “You turning in, doc?”
Beckett nodded. “Aye. You?”
Ford gave a shrug. Beckett smiled at the look on his face: Aiden looked almost disappointed that the day was coming to a close, even if he’d spent a large portion of it battling terrifying aliens. “I guess. I didn’t see the major, here. Did you get a look at him?”
Carson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. No, Sheppard hadn’t come by the infirmary. He’d been so distracted with all the coming and going that the pilot’s absence had slipped past him. “No, I didn’t.” All the others who’d gone off world had been fine; there was no evidence of anything unusual or dangerous in their blood streams and for those who’d been scooped up by the Wraith ship, there didn’t seem to be any ill effects. He doubted the major would be any different.
“It’s just…,” Aiden shifted uncomfortably. Carson stared bemused at the younger man’s unease. He looked like a small child, expecting an admonishment for something. “Well, it’s just…I think those Wraith slapped him around a little.”
Beckett frowned. “Define a little, lieutenant.”
“When I got there, one of the big ones had him pinned to the table by the throat. Looked like he was trying to choke him or something. And when he rolled off the table…. He looked kind of stiff like he was in pain or something.” Ford raised earnest eyes to him. “I’m surprised he didn’t come by.”
So was Carson. He hoped Sheppard was not going to be the kind of soldier to avoid seeking care for his injuries or if he was ill until he ended up collapsing. Word had it the man was now the ranking military officer since the death of Colonel Sumner so it became even more important to keep him sound.
“Don’t worry,” he told Aiden. “My room’s not far from his, according to this.” He removed a scrap of paper one of the marines had shoved into his hand earlier, a hastily drawn map of the living quarters. “I’ll check on him before I turn in.”
He noted Aiden’s mixed up look, half relieved, half worried. “And I won’t tell him who clued me in.”
Ford grinned. “Thanks, doc. See you tomorrow, ok?”
Beckett bid Ford goodnight and went to retrieve his bag from his office before heading to his room.
Sheppard’s was a few doors down; Beckett let the chime sound for a few moments before he grew worried and started to knock. Not too loudly: he wasn’t sure if these rooms were soundproofed and he didn’t want to wake anyone unnecessarily. But when there was still no answer, Beckett decided he would have to use the ATA gene. He closed his eyes, focused on the door and thought open. To his surprise, it worked.
Beckett stepped inside quietly, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. After a few moments he could make out Sheppard’s bed, and the shape of a sleeping form within. He moved closer, making sure to make no sound.
Sheppard hadn’t even stripped before tumbling into bed, a sure sign how exhausted the man was. He hadn’t even bothered to pull up the blanket. That made his job a little easier. The colonel was lying on his back, both arms tossed carelessly over his head. His face was turned to the wall and even in the darkness Carson could see a hint of lingering tension there, as though the major was on the way back from a bad dream.
But it was his neck that caught Carson’s eye. He asked the city to raise the lights just a little, so as not to disturb the sleeping man any more than necessary. The skin around Sheppard’s throat was starting to mottle; he could distinguish clear, thick finger marks, proving that Ford had been right about that at least. It looked like the Wraith had tried to throttle the major, or at least had pinned him by holding him there.
Beckett tsked the man angrily but was gentle when he touched his shoulder and gave him a light shake. It wouldn’t do to wake a soldier suddenly.
“Major. Major Sheppard. Come on, major, it’s Dr Beckett.”
Sheppard came around slowly, eyes blinking in confusion. “Doc?”
Beckett gave him a comforting smile. “Aye. You missed your check up.”
“Oh,” Sheppard gave a half shrug but stopped the movement suddenly although he tried to hide the pain. “Yeah, I got a little side tracked.”
“Easily done,” Carson said, but he’d already decided to keep an eye on the major in case of future distractions. “But I’m here now so let’s have your clothes off and I’ll give you the quick once over.”
Sheppard propped himself up on his elbows as Carson set his bag down on the bed. “Look, Dr Beckett, I’m fine. I know I should have stopped by, but any chance we can do this in the morning? I’m really zonked.”
Beckett sat down on the bed next to Sheppard and patted his knee. “I can see that, son, but apparently you got into a little tussle with those Wraith things.” Sheppard was suddenly wide awake, forehead furrowed as he realised he’d been ratted out.
“Your neck,” Carson said quickly. “It looks like someone tried to strangle you.”
The major raised a hand self consciously to the bruising. “Oh. No, he…it just pinned me down so I could get a lecture from the boss.”
“No trouble breathing? Is your throat sore?”
He could see Sheppard considering how honest to be. “I can treat you here major, if you’re not keen on coming back to the infirmary.”
“Okay,” Sheppard relented. “Breathing - fine. My throat is a bit painful, though.”
Carson called the lights up higher and examined his neck more closely. “The bruising will be uncomfortable for a few days but I’ll give you some painkillers and a spray you can use for your throat. Now, take your shirt off.”
Sheppard seemed about to protest but caught Beckett’s look and eased the top stiffly over his arms and head. Beckett quickly checked his front then motioned for the man to roll onto his stomach. He tutted as he saw the start of another formidable bruise appearing along the line of Sheppard’s shoulders and spreading down his back.
“What happened there?”
“Got slammed onto the table.” The major said it like it was no big deal.
Carson probed lightly, easing his touch when he managed to draw a sharp inhalation from his patient. Again, like the marks on Sheppard’s throat, there was no sign of real damage. He’d be tender for a few days but it didn’t require any treatment.
“If they get overly sore I want you to come see me, major. We can try icing them. But other than that, just nothing too strenuous. That’s a medical order.”
Sheppard rolled over and sat up. “I may not be able to keep to that, doc. Next few days are going to be hectic.”
Beckett realised how unrealistic his instruction had been. A lot of authority and responsibility had been suddenly thrust onto the pilot’s shoulders. He couldn’t push it away because he’d gotten a little knocked about. He could push it; in medical matters he outranked everyone in Atlantis even the expedition leaders; but it wouldn’t do to get off on the wrong foot with Sheppard and he wanted to reserve pulling rank for a situation that really required it.
“Can we come to a compromise, this once?” Carson suggested. “Just try for me. If something comes up, then fair enough. But keep taking those pills and using the spray and I want to see you back in the infirmary day after tomorrow to see how you’re doing. Okay?”
Sheppard nodded, a little stiffly. “Okay.”
He lay back down and gave Carson a bemused look when the doctor tugged a blanket up over him. As the Scot grabbed his bag and headed to the door, Sheppard called after him, “Thanks.”
Beckett nodded but paused before he left. “Major…these Wraith….”
Sheppard was sitting up again, eyes focused on Carson in the near darkness as the lights dimmed again. “Yeah?”
“Are they really something we’re going to have to worry about?”
Sheppard seemed to be weighing up, again, how honest to be. Finally he nodded. “I’d say so, doc. But for me to worry about, not you. We’ll be okay.”
Carson hesitated. Sheppard couldn’t make that guarantee except there was a fierce determination glimmering in the man’s eyes as though force of will alone could stop the Wraith from ever getting near Atlantis. It was not a guarantee but it was enough for Carson to know he would sleep tonight.
“Alright. Mind what I said, major. Have a good night’s sleep.”
“You, too, doc,” Sheppard murmured drowsily. He was asleep before Beckett had even closed the door.