Surviving Sunday
Disclaimer: Being the property of their respective copyright holders, Stargate: Atlantis, its characters or any other publicly recognizable names don’t belong to me in any way, shape or form. This was written for the sole purpose of entertainment, not monetary gain. No copyright infringement is intended.
~ Me owning Stargate: Atlantis? If only…! Then no one would have to fear for their lives, especially not a certain Scottish doctor, unless for whump’s sake of course…!
A/N: Although I have put some effort in the research of the medical stuff, please keep in mind I’m in no way claiming to have appropriate knowledge of what I’m writing about, and some things are plainly for dramatic purpose.
~ And muchísimas gracias to my twin sister twinchy for the beta!
A/N 2: BTW, should anyone consider my little fic worth archiving or saving to their harddrive, please feel free to do so as long as you don’t erase my name or copyright.
First Published: 14/02/ - 07/07/2007
Summary:
Different ending for 3.17, ‘Sunday’: lots of Carson whump, team angst/drama, mainly Sheppard and McKay though; happy ending guaranteed!
Word Count: 32,195
Spoilers: through 3.17, ‘Sunday’ (obviously)
Chapter I
A muffled detonation, the crackling static in the radio…
All of them knew instantly what this sudden silence meant but they didn’t dare even think of it, breathlessly hoping it would not come true as long as they refused to believe it. None of them moved or said a word. For an endless moment they stared blankly into nothingness, desperately waiting for the familiar voice that never came…
xXxXx
The man who had touched so many hearts, who had healed so many bodies and minds was gone. How could the world not fall to ruin? How could it not have shattered at this loss? How could the world survive without its kindest soul?
But time moved on, taking no heed, mercilessly ignoring the people reeling in pain. Twice the sun had gone down, and twice the sun had risen again, and there was still no waking from the never-ending nightmare.
Discreetly looking at the faces of the people gathered in the Gateroom for Carson’s memorial, Elizabeth sensed they all shared this feeling. No matter how hard some of them tried to hide it, she could see beyond their façade of suppressed emotions. Even Atlantis seemed to feel the loss.
As the pall-bearers were about to lift the coffin and make their way through the gate, bracing themselves for the burden far heavier on their hearts than the casket’s physical weight, Elizabeth’s radio crackled.
“Dr Weir, sis is Doctor Gitano,” a voice said in less than perfect English.
The expedition leader was outright annoyed to say the least at the completely inappropriate disturbance in the middle of the memorial service for one of her closest friends. Without waiting for an answer, Dr Gitano continued, “Please report at once at se infirmary, and bring Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay along. Sis is urgent. Gitano out.”
Rodney and John shot her a highly bemused glance at the inadequate interruption when Elizabeth called for them. Startled looks and a rising murmur accompanied the three of them as they headed for the infirmary with Teyla and Ronon following suit. The Satedan was fuming, determined to inflict a cruel fate upon whoever had dared to show such disrespect for the fallen.
xXxXx
Upon arriving at the infirmary, Dr Gitano met the group on the doorstep with a shy smile. While in Sheppard’s eyes annoyed irritation was predominant, McKay’s displayed open hatred for the doctor, and even Weir’s glance would have slain a Wraith. Teyla leaned heavily on Ronon, audibly panting, pain and distress engraved in her weary expression. Clearly intimidated by the sight of them, the elderly doctor had to swallow hard before he was able to speak.
“I… am… sorry,” he stammered, leading them to the intensive care area of the infirmary, “but as I said, sis is urgent. I need you to see sis.” When the physician drew back the curtain surrounding the bed, Elizabeth gave a cry, her hands flying to her mouth. Equally shocked, the others gasped in surprise…
A broad smile spread on the drained face of the man lying in the bed. “Still here…,” he whispered barely audible with a shaky, hoarse voice.
“Carson…?!?” John was the first to recover, disbelief obvious in his flabbergasted voice. He was not sure whether or not he could trust his eyes and ears. True, the past few days had been hard and he hadn’t slept since… − then… but were his eyes playing nasty tricks on him? What he saw before him was beyond possibility; it couldn’t be, he couldn’t hope for it to be true. The wave of contradictory feelings that washed over him seemed to overwhelm him. Bereft of words, he turned to McKay for help, searching the physicist’s eyes. Yet Rodney was in no state to offer John what he desperately sought. McKay stood there like a salt statue, pale as the sheets, expressionlessly staring at the bed. With his mouth open, he looked stricken, taking no notice of his surroundings or the others, who were in no better shape. Only Ronon seemed to have preserved at least the slightest grip on the real world, a genuine smile making its way from his mouth to the eyes.
“How… I mean… this is… how could… this… possible…?” Despite his best efforts, Rodney’s attempt to form a coherent sentence failed miserably.
“I hones’ly have ne idea,” came Carson’s soft reply, his slurred voice revealing he was heavily drugged.
In the background they heard another astounded exclaim, which shook them at last out of their apathy. Dr Cole had entered and was beside herself at the unexpected surprise.
“You look like shit, doc.” John’s teasing remark earned him a faint but hearty grin before the Scot’s eyes slowly drifted shut. The initial euphoria having subsided a bit, Sheppard had worriedly noticed for the first time how bad Carson looked, his face terribly swollen and as red as a cooked lobster, the rest of his body hidden under the bed sheets. John met Rodney’s eyes, perceiving that, beside the boundless relief they all felt, McKay had just realized exactly the same.
Dr Gitano silently called for the team’s attention and motioned them to leave. Obediently they followed him to another corner.
Chapter II
John Sheppard was pacing, always striding a dozen of steps in one direction, turning on his heel and striding a dozen of steps in the opposite direction. He behaved like a caged cheetah. Sitting on one of the infirmary chairs in the waiting area with his legs outstretched, Ronon shot him a dangerous look, silently renewing the threat which had Rodney caused to sit down just moments ago. Of course Dex felt every bit as anxious as the other two men but their impatient behaviour pulled at his nerves, even more than the uncertainty and this seemingly endless waiting. Feeling the imminent peril of being knocked out by the Satedan if he didn’t stop, John sighed heavily and perched on the seat between Ronon and Rodney. With a concerned expression he still tried to make sense of what little Dr Gitano and some resolute young marine had told them.
The clearing-up team had discovered Carson in a clothes locker in that very corridor, only a few feet away from the explosion… The doors of the locker had been bent out of shape from both the impact and the heat. In order to recover its content and see whether it was still in working order, they had opened the doors forcefully. What the startled men had found inside had taken their breath away. Within the compartment closest to the explosion the unconscious form of their CMO had sat crouched on the floor, his back against the sidewall, arms and legs resting against the locker’s back and door. The pitiful sight and the stench of burnt flesh and fabric as well as molten plastic almost made the men nauseous. None of them suspected the doctor was still alive, believing they had at last come across the body which they had not been able to locate until now.
Sergeant Meagre had stepped forward, volunteering for the thankless task of retrieving the body from the locker. Briefly closing his eyes he had readied himself, hesitating once again before he had reached out for the motionless form… and jumped back with a surprised gasp. “Im- p…possible…”, he had stammered white as a sheet. At his touch the presumed dead CMO had felt hot and let out the faintest of groans.
“Medical emergency in corridor 4b, infirmary floor! Hurry!” The others had gazed at him in total shock as the meaning of his words had sunk in.
When the doctors had arrived, they had been expecting anything but what they were presented with. Wide-eyed and unbelieving they had stared at their boss lying in the locker. It had taken a moment before they had busied themselves with assessing Carson’s condition, administering drugs and providing him with infusions. Upon reaching the trauma room, the attending physicians quickly perceived that Beckett had suffered severe burns and was running a high fever but wasn’t in immediate danger. Therefore the acting chief medic had decided to first inform Dr Weir of their discovery and call in Dr Cole to assist him in the more thorough analysis of his patient’s condition. Adding to their complete astonishment, Carson had regained consciousness and appeared relatively lucid by the time Dr Gitano had called for Elizabeth and the others to come to the infirmary. So the Columbian doctor had reluctantly agreed to let Beckett have his way and surprise his friends himself.
Now John, Rodney and Ronon were impatiently waiting for the results of the examination, shifting in their seats, longing to hear something more definite than the vague answers Dr Gitano had given them. It’s been more than one hour since they had been banned from the intensive care area, yet it felt like years. Why in all good heavens did time have to crawl by at snail’s pace when you were desperately waiting for something?!
About half an hour ago, Teyla had dozed off and was gently put into her bed by Ronon. Elizabeth had, despite her urge to stay, gone to resume her duties as the expedition leader, knowing she had to contact earth and notify the others who were still waiting at the memorial. The prospect of all the paperwork alone gave her a tension headache but one she gladly embraced. Actually, it seemed a small prize for the life of a dear friend.
xXxXx
Another half-hour passed without any news. Sheppard had begun pacing once more, unable to keep still. In fact, he hadn’t managed to sit for more than five minutes before getting up again. He needed to do something, anything. Claiming the same rights as John, Rodney had without hesitation joined the colonel in walking up and down the small room. Ronon had long given up trying to confine them to their seats, realizing this was an exercise in futility. ‘At least’, the Satedan dryly reflected, ‘McKay had stopped babbling.’ They all were very aware of the fact that Rodney worked his mouth a mile a minute to deal with the tension of a given situation but for his team mates his speed-talk attacks were unbearable, especially now. So Ronon wasn’t surprised at all when John had seconded his threat to shoot Rodney with his blaster, even leaving it open to the shocked scientist whether he would bother to set it to stun first. McKay had looked hurt and started to gesture wildly with his hands, another typical reaction, but he had shut up.
A deep growl emitted from Ronon’s throat to express his disapproval to the pacing, which considerably added to his own nervousness. At that moment Dr Cole entered, looking exhausted and worried. The trio wheeled around to face her, concerned and plainly afraid of what they might hear. She forced a reassuring smile, lack of conviction obvious in her eyes.
They followed the young physician across the infirmary towards Beckett’s office, every single step increasing their unease. John couldn’t help but think of the proverbial lamb led to the slaughter; only this time none of them walking down the quiet floor was the one whose life was at stake. ‘How fitting… she already claims his office for her own…’ Rodney brushed away the unsettling thought. Defeat was close but not yet at hand.
Once inside, Dr Cole shut the door, taking her time as she moved, clearly grateful for the short delay. When she faced the three men again, whose expressions ranged between mad with worry, impatient and quizzical, she knew there was no way to hold back the answers any longer. The answers they had desperately waited for, the answers they needed, the answers they deserved.
She sighed, hesitating once more before she finally spoke. “Dr Beckett is stable… for now.” The last part of her statement almost lost in the understandable relief.
John released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, noticing with a grin that beside him Rodney and Ronon also exhaled audibly. ‘So far for the good news’, Sheppard added silently, preparing himself for the bad part, which he knew was about to come. The doctor had been far too serious and cheerless to not having a hard blow in store. As usual, McKay had also sensed the adversative nature of Dr Cole’s words.
“But…?” Rodney prompted.
She sighed deeply. “Okay, no more beating about the bush.” Another pause, another sigh. This was hard on her as well. “Dr Beckett has suffered some very serious burns, mainly on his back, his left arm and leg, in fact everywhere he came in contact with the hot metal of the locker. These are third degree. Because of the heat that was trapped within the compartment, every part of his body that was not covered with clothes, such as his face, neck and arm, suffered from minor burns, first and second degree. His respiratory tract was also affected detrimentally when he inhaled the heat, making it difficult for him to breathe.” She paused for an instant, carefully eying Dr McKay, who had gone paler with every word.
“Maybe you want to take a seat before I continue”, the physician offered to no one in particular. Even Sheppard and Ronon welcomed the pause to collect themselves. They all sat down except for Dr Cole, who remained standing.
“Dr Beckett has lost a huge amount of fluid and runs a high fever from the poisoning of his system. But there are also symptoms of poisoning probably caused by inhaling the gas emitted from the molten plastic coat hangers.”
“How so?”, the Satedan interrupted.
“How so what?” Dr Cole asked back.
Ronon straightened on his chair. “Well, you told us something about poisoning his system. Why? What is poisoning his system?”
“Look”, the doctor began, “roughly 23 percent of his body suffered from burns of various degrees.” She ignored the sharp breath Rodney took in. “To counter the heat, the body floods the affected parts with fluid. This fluid contains lots of protein, which eventually breaks down into its poisonous components, these are spread across the whole body by the blood, causing a dangerous poisoning of the entire system. In serious cases this leads to renal failure, respiratory as well as cardiac arrest and ultimately death. In order to compensate the loss of fluid and to counter the poisoning, which causes the multi-organ failure, one must provide the patient with as much IV solution as possible. And then there is also the high risk of infections to the wounds. These are the reasons why so many patients with severe burns die eventually, even if they survive the immediate effects. So, except for tending to the burns and pain management, there is nothing much a doctor can do but wait.”
“And what about Carson? How bad is it?” John brought them back on topic, his stomach cramping at what he had just heard.
“As I said”, Dr Cole’s voice broke. She swallowed hard and then went on. “About 23 percent of his body are burned. Some of his wounds are already showing signs of infection, which, to be honest, is not surprising. After all he spent two whole days in that locker with his burns untended. Actually, I still marvel at the fact that he was able to survive that long without medical attention. It’s nothing short of a wonder he didn’t die immediately of the shock! And then, despite the loss of fluid, pulling through for another two days… Well gentlemen, if you ever wanted to witness a miracle happen, here is one.”
“Yeah”, Rodney muttered, admiration mixing with worry, “he may not look it but our good doc is as tough as they come!”
“What about these 23 percent you keep mentioning?” Ronon wanted to have an answer, NOW!
“Right. 23 percent means… depending on the person, his general constitution, everything above 15 to 20 percent is life-threatening. Dr Beckett’s condition will deteriorate considerably in the next few days before it hopefully improves. It is serious, he is not out of the woods yet and won’t be for some time. But if no complications occur, I think he should make it.” There it was again, the forced smile that couldn’t convince them.
“Does he know?” McKay’s soft voice was hardly above a whisper. He was pretty sure he knew the answer already but couldn’t help asking anyway.
Dr Cole was no longer able to hold their questioning gaze and looked down to the floor as she replied just as softly. “I wish he didn’t.” A long pause followed before the lump in her throat allowed her to speak again. “He is in great pain but lucid. I mean I didn’t read his chart to him but he is too good a doctor to not know. In fact he’s the damn best physician I ever met. Dr Beckett certainly doesn’t know all the details but he is well aware of his condition and what lies ahead of him. No doubt, sometimes knowing all too well is a curse!”
A heavy silence spread in the small office. The three men needed some time to take in the information and its implications.
“Can we see him?”
The young doctor wanted to decline the request. Their CMO definitely needed to rest right now and gather all his remaining strength for the days to come. But knowing her boss would be overjoyed to see his friends, and looking at the stern faces, laden with concern, she hesitated and finally gave in. “Alright then, but only two of you, and only for a few minutes. I mean it.”
“I’ll tell Dr Weir and the others”, Ronon volunteered, leaving the room while speaking.
When Dr Cole turned to leave as well, John and Rodney immediately wanted to join her but she raised a hand, stopping them in their track. “Wait. Not so fast, Colonel, Doctor. First I’ll go check whether or not he is in any condition to receive visitors. Come back in half an hour and I’ll let you to him if he is fit enough.” With that she marched out of Carson’s office, leaving the two men at a loss.
Rodney looked wide-eyed at John, having no clue what he could do during that time. ‘Well, I could always get something to eat. Really, I’m starving.’ “Am headed for the mess hall. See you in 30 minutes”, he called to his perplexed friend while rushing out.
After McKay had left, Sheppard tried to come up with something he could do. Eating was out of the question, the mere thought of inflicting food upon his unsteady stomach was hideous.
Chapter III
Approximately 20 minutes later John was on his way to the mess hall, sure Rodney would still be there, filling his tummy with whatever was available. To his complete surprise he found McKay gone. ‘Maybe he is already on his way to the infirmary”, the colonel reflected. Patience was a virtue but certainly none Rodney McKay pursued.
Increasing his pace to not risk Rodney gaining access to the secluded area of the infirmary before him, he passed several corridors, coming to a sudden halt when a strange yet familiar sound to the right of him caught his attention. There was a small balcony, the door standing wide open. He strained his ears to listen more closely to the whispered words interspersed with soft sobs. ‘What was McKay doing out there?’ Realization hit him like a ton of bricks when he recognized some of the words: The always matter-of-fact-I-don’t-believe-in-anything-but-myself scientist was weeping… and what was more, praying.
Usually, this would have been a feast for John Sheppard, something he would have mercilessly used to his advantage but somehow it just filled him with wonder now. He himself had never felt the urge to imagine a higher being which was to blame for all the shit that had happened in his life, or to which he felt obliged to thank if he had come clear of a dangerous situation. But what he had witnessed today, the unexpected resurrection of one of his closest friends, could really make you believe! If there was such a thing as the perfect day to find your faith, this just might be very well it.
John resisted the desire to go outside and lay a reassuring hand on Rodney’s shoulder, knowing his friend would feel thoroughly embarrassed if he did. Therefore he decided to head for the infirmary instead and leave it to that. McKay would be right on his heels as soon as he got a grip on himself. Nothing in this universe would keep Rodney from seeing Carson in a few minutes; pity the poor soul who tried.
xXxXx
Rodney had ignored the unbelieving look on John’s face, just like the subsequent head shaking. He didn’t care that Sheppard was truly convinced his personal world only revolved around food. He wouldn’t have been able to tell him that he needed some time for himself anyway, exclusively reserved for his own thoughts. He had walked off with no idea at all where to go, simply pretending to purposefully go in a certain direction. Somehow he had ended up on this small balcony, absentmindedly staring at the sunset.
No one understood what it meant to him that Carson was still alive, not even John. True, he and John were close as anyone and there were a lot of things they shared. But with Beckett it was different. The gentle Scot was the sweetest soul one could imagine. Sometimes he was the biggest baby himself, especially when it came to using the control chair. He really was the mother hen of Atlantis if ever there was one! And often enough his caring and compassionate behaviour drove Rodney crazy. How could someone with such a big heart and stupid integrity ever make it in life? His cheerful and forgiving demeanour was at times plainly outraging, when he shrugged off every insult thrown at him with an endearing smile.
Probably everyone in Atlantis was convinced John was Rodney’s closest friend, and he undoubtedly spent most of his time with the colonel, both on and off duty. So it was most likely true that Sheppard had become his best friend over the past three years but Carson felt more like a brother rather than a friend, a kindred soul somehow. Losing Beckett had ripped his heart apart; the fact that he was guilt-stricken for having treated Carson in such a shoddy way far too often and especially on his last day, adding to the feeling.
Now it seemed as though he was granted a second chance, a chance to do a better job letting Carson know how much he cared for him as well. Okay, Rodney was a realist, and teasing the dark-haired physician was way too much fun a habit to give up, but he was determined to enjoy the time with Beckett more consciously and never forget how awful it had felt to lose him. Before he had even realized it, he had begun to pray, tears of joy and despair streaming down his face. No, none of them understood what it meant to him…
His watch beeped, interrupting his heartfelt reflections. With his right sleeve he wiped the tears away. It was time to pay Carson a visit.
xXxXx
Sheppard and Dr Cole already awaited him as Rodney entered the infirmary. John had a mischievous grin on his face, trying hard to refrain from mocking the physicist about his reddened eyes. For once he would let dignity get the better of him and spare McKay the embarrassment of revealing his knowledge.
Prior to leading the colonel and the doctor to the CMO, she had warned them to not touch any of the equipment and instantly clear the path for the medical personnel should any emergency arise. Further she had instructed them to at least attempt to conceal their concern or their shock at seeing him. The two friends had shared an uneasy glance, afraid at what they might find when Dr Cole thought it was necessary to tell them something so obvious.
Once they passed the curtain separating Carson’s bed from the rest of the intensive care section, they immediately understood why Dr Cole had felt the need to tip them off. The loveable Scot gave a truly pitiful sight, making the two visitors grateful for what little privacy the curtain offered. He was attached to many monitors and tubes, several IV poles were holding bags with solutions. Spread around the bed there were also some menacing machines, which weren’t currently online but obviously considered handy for later use or in case of an emergency. A nasal cannula provided the doctor with oxygen, his breathing was noticeably strained, and he had his eyes closed. His face and neck were still as swollen and red as they remembered it from earlier on. A wet cloth was placed over his brow to give Carson’s fever stricken head some comfort. Lying above the blanket, only the IV ports protruded from his fully bandaged arms, on the left side not even the fingertips were visible. As before, the rest of his body was hidden under the sheets.
When Rodney and John approached the bed and silently slid down on the two chairs, Carson opened his eyes. Amidst the red of his face, their pale blue colour appeared bluer than ever, almost mesmerizing. In spite of the evident pain displayed in his features, the usual cheerful sparkle in his eyes was still present.
“Och, don’ ye look a’ me tha’ way, lads”, Carson croaked. “Ye look worse than I feel, an’ that’s sayin’ somethin’.”
Sheppard and McKay exchanged a meaningful glance, unable to suppress a smirk. Before too long Sheppard broke the uneasy silence, “Can I ask you something, doc?”
“Go ahea’.
”How the hell did you manage to get into that damn locker?” John didn’t even try to hide his amazement.
Carson closed his eyes, for a moment intently searching his memory. When he opened them again, he took no heed of his visitors, apparently fixing some distant shadow through a thick veil, his voice strangely absent. “I don’ know about gettin’ in or bein’ in. I vaguely seem te remember the door o’ one o’ the compartments stood open when I went past it. Possibly someone was stuffin’ somethin’ inside when I ordered everyone te leave. I cannae tell you more, son. Sorry.”
“Guess what,” Rodney chimed in, face beaming at his sudden idea to lighten the mood. “We even had a bag-piper for your memorial service today!”
“McKay!” John was exasperated at Rodney’s thoughtless outburst, shooting him an annoyed glance immediately followed by a hard jab into his ribs. McKay cried out, playing innocent, completely unaware of his lack of tact.
Beckett couldn’t help a wholehearted chuckle at the comment and the scene. “You two are the death o’ me one day! Hones’ly, I’m touched but ye can jus’ as well send a bag-piper te me while I’m still alive.”
All of a sudden the curtain was drawn back, revealing nurse Chun So Mae. Despite her delicate physique, she gave a quite imposing image, standing there in the dim light, both hands steady on her hips. Startled the three men stared at her, innocent expression and wide grin on their faces.
“What is all the fuss and noise about?!” she inquired sternly.
“Sorry”, all three of them said with one voice, the apologetic tone lost in the playful laughter.
“That’s it, gentlemen!” Her grumpy tone left no room for discussion. “Time is up. You two shouldn’t be here anyway. Dr Beckett needs to rest.”
Knowing better than to push their luck any further, John and Rodney reluctantly rose from their seats.
“Get well soon. And doc?” Sheppard didn’t wait for an answer. “We’re awfully glad you’re still here!” His relief and joy giving those words a fitting ring to them.
“I know, son.” The exhausted physician sighed audibly. “So am I.”
“See you tomorrow if the warden lets us in.” Casting one last mischievous smile at Beckett, John and Rodney sneaked out.
xXxXx
Later at night, Dr Cole was sitting in Carson’s office, intent on getting some paper work done when something subconsciously entered her mind. For a few minutes she couldn’t quite make out what exactly it was that had distracted her from the file she was working on. But something surely caused her a distinct feeling of unease. She listened to the quiet infirmary. When all of a sudden realization hit her, she was at once on her feet…
Chapter IV
John awoke early that morning. During the night he had lain tossing and turning for hours, trying in vain to really comprehend what had happened. Yet finally exhaustion had won over restlessness and he had fallen into a dreamless slumber, at last allowing his body the much-needed sleep his troubled mind had denied him for too long. After their visit in the infirmary, Rodney and he had instinctively known where to go. There had never been a call for a meeting but nevertheless, many people had gathered in the conference room, patiently waiting for news. So the room had been literally packed when the two of them had arrived. Sheppard smiled as he recalled the utter relief in their faces. For the first time in months John felt at peace. At peace with himself. But most of all with fate in general. Today life was good!
At breakfast Rodney hardly said a word, even failing to complain about the ‘dishwater they call coffee’. For John it felt strange to have the ever-grating scientist gnawing at a single slice of bread and not say anything. Sure, Sheppard hadn’t been surprised by this behaviour when they all had thought Carson was dead, but he would have bet a fortune to find McKay his usual self again this morning. Something was obviously still worrying his friend, and the fact that Rodney refused to talk about it only increased his own disquiet. Knowing better than trying to prompt Rodney to tell what was up, they finished their breakfast at the ungodly hour of pre-sunrise in an atypical silence that weighed heavily on both of them.
Before starting their working day, they wanted to pay Beckett a short visit and share some good-natured banter with the witty doc. As the colonel and the physicist entered the quiet infirmary, the lights were low. The nurses of the nightshift were chatting with their colleagues of the dayshift over a cup of coffee, which the first needed to keep their tired eyes open and the latter to actually wake up. Mildly amused at the scene that was mirrored to a T in the doctors’ room, John and Rodney exchanged a glance. Their cunning plan to sneak in unnoticed at change of shift seemed to work fine; no one paid any attention to the trespassers. Unhindered they ventured further through the deserted infirmary to the intensive care unit, each step bolder than the previous one.
All of a sudden they heard someone walk up behind them. For one split second John considered hiding behind a curtain but it was already too late; they were caught!
“What do you gentlemen think you are doing here?” a stern voice asked.
With a look of pure innocence on his face, Rodney whirled around, hand darting to his chest. “Whoa! Dr Cole, how can you startle us like that? It’s your fault if I die of a heart attack one of these days.” The last bit was offered in the all too familiar annoyed tone of voice, vibrating with accusation.
The colonel marvelled at his friend’s ability to immediately switch into his usual inflammatory mode and even manage to keep his face straight, while he himself couldn’t muster anything beyond a sheepish smile with a good portion of his most seductive boyish charm thrown in for good measure. Unfortunately the doctor didn’t seem very impressed with either strategy. Her weary brown eyes displayed only the merest hint of amusement, and she was clearly in no mood to let them proceed.
With a no-nonsense look she ignored McKay’s comment and continued, “You can’t see Dr Beckett now. But I need to talk to you.”
xXxXx
Usually Dr Cole referred to her boss by first name, yet somehow in this situation it was much easier for her to call him Dr Beckett, thus creating some distance between her as a doctor and their critically wounded CMO as a patient. She needed this distance now, needed to disconnect her feelings in order to be able to do her job.
The two men were standing across the desk, fixing her sight and tracking down her every movement, deep furrows of worry engraved in their faces. Of course they had instantly known that her statement was not a good sign. To Sheppard’s growing anxiety, McKay had murmured something about ‘ill-boding’ and ‘being cut off when radioing in earlier’ all along the way to Carson’s office. This must have been the reason for Rodney’s peculiar behaviour. But why hadn’t he told him that he feared something was wrong? Why the hell hadn’t he told him? Instead John had walked in here with high hopes, which were about to be shattered once again.
The physician in front of them collected herself and took a deep breath, a simple habit both men had learned to dread. She let out a sigh, involuntarily reliving last night’s events as she began…
Dashing out of the room, she crossed the short distance between Carson’s office and his infirmary bed. Beckett’s breaths came laboured and irregular but he managed a smile when she arrived.
“Don’ ye worry, lass… ‘M fine.”
“Let me be the judge of that”, she muttered concerned. Countless times she had overheard him say just that to a patient. She had always guessed that in this matter Carson was no better than his favourite bed occupants he kept complaining about. But what he was playing down so casually was really serious, and he knew it. With practised routine Samantha Cole checked the readings on the monitors, noticing the alarmingly low oxygen saturation and the increased fever while inwardly scolding the night nurse for paying so little attention to a critical patient. They would have a serious talk about that later.
“Betsy, where the hell are you?!” If ever she had tried to keep her voice level, she had failed.
Said nurse rounded the corner and rushed towards the fuming doctor. Betsy looked apprehensive and guilt-ridden because she knew she had neglected to inform Dr Cole that she needed to go to the bathroom and it was a grave mistake to leave a critical patient without surveillance. But she had been gone for only a few minutes and Dr Beckett had been doing relatively okay. Why did something have to happen now of all moments?
When Betsy approached, Carson smiled sympathetically at her, fully aware that a decent dressing down was in store for her. After all, he himself had insisted she could go, being perfectly capable of looking after himself, especially since Samantha was in immediate vicinity.
“No’ her faul’… Said ‘twas okay”, the CMO whispered between two gasps. Breathing was becoming more and more difficult for him but he valiantly stood his ground.
“You”, and Dr Cole emphasized the first word dramatically, “are the patient this time, not the doctor!” Her stern expression and voice softened considerably before she carried on, “Seems like we’ll have to intubate soon, I’m afraid.” She laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Slowly Carson shook his head, “No’ yet, Sam... I ca’… can manage… a few more… minutes.” His ragged breaths clearly telling otherwise.
“You know that’s not true. Your oxygen saturation has fallen abysmally”, the young physician answered quietly and stroke his cheek in a calming gesture. “I can understand that you are less than thrilled but unlike most patients we’re treating here, you know that it will actually help, not harm you.”
Although his heart rate was already accelerated, the beeping of the monitor beside him increased some more, mercilessly betraying his best efforts to appear brave. As a matter of fact, he was outright terrified at the thought of getting hooked up to the ventilator. Being a doctor, he rationally knew all too well that needing life support wasn’t such a big deal, but now on the receiving end, as a doctor and a patient, he felt fear overwhelm him. Still, it was not only that strong sensation of helplessness that freaked him out. Considering his burns, he had expected his deteriorating condition would lead to this, but had desperately hoped it wouldn’t come so soon. Already being dependent on assisted breathing at this time during the healing process, didn’t bode well at all for his chances of survival. Carson knew he could hardly postpone the intubation any much longer, but simply letting it happen and handing over his precious life to an unfeeling machine felt like giving up, submitting to his injuries. He didn’t want to surrender. Not now. Never. If it had been possible to keep breathing by pure willpower, he would have forced the air into his straining lungs. But with every passing minute he could sense his life slip through his fingers and his consciousness drift away.
A gentle hand stroke through his sweaty hair while a soft voice next to him ordered the intubation kit and the appropriate medications. Desperately, Carson glanced up at Samantha’s compassionate face. He wondered whether he ever looked so much at a loss when it came to treating patients who were dear to him. Once his condition became life threatening, Dr Cole didn’t need Beckett’s consent to proceed, he knew that. And as much as he knew that she would do it without his approval, he appreciated her waiting for his agreement. She was a good doctor, he was proud to have her on the team.
“Don’… wan’ te... give up…”, Beckett panted breathlessly. “No’ so… easily.”
“You’re not giving up, Carson.” Cole’s pitiful voice touched him deeply. Rationally the CMO understood she was right but it was so much harder to bring his emotions beyond the feeling of utter despair.
“Do you allow us to intubate you?” Her soothing calmness and consoling touch comforted him.
After a few seconds Carson nodded slowly. “B’t please… don’ make me… sleep t’ll… kingdom come…” A lonely tear escaped his eye, rolling down his reddened face.
“I’ll let you wake up in the morning. Promise.”
A powerful wave of drowsiness engulfed Beckett as the Versed was administered into his IV port, washing his consciousness away within seconds. He tried to cling to awareness as long as he could. Eyes drooping he only just felt the pancuronium, the paralysing second injection take effect. From far away he more felt than heard a faint voice say, “Sleep well.”
He didn’t feel anymore his body go limp or his breathing stop altogether, nor did he feel tender hands tilting his head back and smoothly easing the tube down his trachea before the rhythmical thud of the ventilator commenced. There was only darkness and he let go…
Chapter V
“It doesn’t end here, right?” Rodney’s voice sounded strangely detached.
“Pardon?” Dr Cole snapped out of her account.
“I said, it didn’t end here, right?” The physicist obviously didn’t care to elaborate, thinking she had just missed the words.
“I’m not quite sure what you’re aiming at, Dr McKay.”
With his head swirling from medical terms, even Sheppard didn’t have the slightest idea what Rodney wanted to know. So, receiving a quizzical look from both, the blond physician and his dark-haired friend, the scientist tried again.
“I mean, it’s not the end of the road. It’s still getting worse, isn’t it?” he uttered with slightly trembling voice. It was more of a statement rather than a question.
She looked to the floor, searching for answers, unsure what she should tell them. The silence in the room became almost tangible. After a moment she inhaled deeply, hesitating once again before she eventually spoke. “Yes, his condition will worsen further; probably a lot.” Her voice was low but steady. “The infection has taken a firm hold of his wounds, and for the moment the antibiotics we’re giving him don’t show any effect. I won’t lie to you, if his condition keeps deteriorating at this rate…”, she never finished the sentence, she didn’t have to.
Wide-eyed and unbelieving Rodney and John stared at the doctor in front of them. What she told so calmly, seemingly unfeeling, turned their world upside-down. ‘Yes’, John recalled, ‘she had said Carson was not out of the woods yet’, but he had never realized just what exactly this meant. All of them had beaten the odds so many times; Carson - for goodness sake - had even returned from the dead! John had never once even considered the possibility that the gentle Scotsman could still actually die. He had expected Beckett to get a little worse - yes -, taking his time to fight off the fever - yes -, bitching and moaning about the pain and the possible scars - though that was really Rodney’s department -, all the while contentedly chatting with his friends, just like the night before…
Now, the seriousness of the situation caught up with him. He felt himself trapped in a cruel universe keen on mercilessly taking away again what had looked like a generous gift at first glance, thus making the loss even more unbearable.
The physicist beside him struggled for words, subconsciously grabbing for the back-rest of the nearest chair to support his wobbly legs. Finding the assistance still not quite sufficient to forestall the danger of his knees giving way under him, he finally succeeded in planting himself into it. John had always believed Rodney’s panic attacks were unnerving but his friend was now clearly beyond panic, and that terrified Sheppard even more.
“You came here to see Dr Beckett”, Cole broke the uncomfortable silence. “And I think that’s a very good idea. Having his friends around will certainly lift his spirit and motivate him to mobilize every last resource of strength. As long as he is up to it, you, Dr Weir, Ronon and Teyla are free to visit him. Two conditions though: no more than two visitors at once, after all he needs rest to gather his strength; and you immediately get out of the way in case of an emergency.” She paused briefly. “He will wake up in an hour or two. If everything’s alright, I’ll call you over the radio, then you can see him.”
xXxXx
John was at a loss what to do. So early in the morning most people were still asleep or at the most getting up by now. Strolling to the Gateroom, he even found Elizabeth’s office deserted. Well, so much for the plan to debrief Weir in the meantime. He considered going to the gym and see whether he could convince Ronon to spar with him. But the Satedan was probably not up yet, either.
‘What to do? What to do?’
The colonel turned on his heel, undecided where to go next. Silently he envied Rodney for his lab work. He was pretty sure McKay had no problems distracting himself for the time being. The man was always busy, busier than seemed healthy; but that was another matter. Involuntarily Sheppard remembered his neglected paperwork.
‘Nah, I’m not that desperate…!’ He dismissed the idea.
Suddenly something sprang to his mind. He turned around and headed off.
xXxXx
Rodney had walked off to his lab where Zelenka was already at work. Judging from his tired face, Radek too hadn’t had much sleep if any at all. Just like McKay, the Czech was famous for his night shifts, and given the circumstances of the past few days, in which their feelings had gone through the proverbial roller coaster ride, their insomnia was hardly surprising.
“Morning, Rodney.” Zelenka tried to stifle a compromising yawn.
‘Definitely the whole-night shift’, McKay concluded. “Ah Radek, what are you still doing here? Have you even tried to take a nap before messing up my whole research of over a week?”
The snappy remark remained unanswered as Zelenka unsuccessfully took another attempt at suppressing a yawn.
“Come on, Radek. Take your stubborn butt and remove your head from my sight to get some shut-eye before you accidentally blow up the whole city! If I find you anywhere near the lab within the next four hours, I’ll have my good buddy Ronon take care of your sleeplessness…” The mock threat caused both scientists a smile.
At first Radek seemed unwilling to leave but finally he relented. “Okay. And when you go see Carson, give him my best.”
“Will do. Now go already.” With that Rodney turned around, hiding his worry, and tried to busy himself with something while waiting for the anticipated call.”
xXxXx
Dr Cole’s estimation had been quite accurate. Roughly one hour after the astrophysicist and the colonel had left the infirmary, Carson became restless in his sleep. Although her shift had officially ended about half an hour ago, she now pulled a chair closer to his bed. Of course Dr Jollet could have handled it, but she had been there when her boss had been put to sleep; now she wanted to be there when he regained consciousness. After all, her migraine had been at least part of the reason he had ended up in his own infirmary with severe burns. And already being off duty proved an immense advantage, for she didn’t have to split her attention between several patients but was able to concentrate on just one person. One very special person.
On the night stand beside the bed various vials of medication and syringes were assembled. Dr Beckett’s awakening would not be a pleasant one. She had never experienced it herself but she understood that coming round when intubated was less than comfortable, even terrifying at times. That was one of the main reasons why patients on a ventilator usually remained sedated. Yet, apart from the discomfort, there was nothing against letting such a patient come to. Still, because of the burns in his respiratory tract, the breathing tube would cause considerable pain. So, should he start to writhe or struggle, Dr Cole would not hesitate to put him back to sleep, even against his explicit wish.
As Samantha watched the dark-haired man in front of her slowly wake up and become more and more aware of his surroundings, she slipped from her chair and reached at the ventilator controls, setting it to Assist Control. There was no way of knowing whether her superior was still able to initiate breaths of his own; she doubted it, but she couldn’t be entirely sure, either. And having to endure Control Ventilation while conscious if his spontaneous breathing hadn’t stopped altogether, was simply cruel. Soothingly she began to talk to Carson in order to keep him calm. She took the damp cloth from his forehead, rinsed it in the basin on the night stand and gently washed the sweat from Beckett’s feverish face, then, rinsing it once more, she placed it back on his brow. Subconsciously savouring the cool sensation, which brought momentary relief from the heat, the CMO slightly turned his head in Cole’s direction.
“Shhh, try to lie still. I know you are very uncomfortable and hot but try to move as little as possible.”
His awareness was still too far away to catch the meaning of the words but nevertheless, the calming tone of voice had the desired effect and Beckett settled down again. Knowing from experience that it was hard work for a patient to surface from a medically induced sleep, the young physician moved her chair even closer to the head of the bed and tenderly stroked his cheek, all the while quietly talking to her boss, providing an anchor to the real world to which he could cling.
The thick, impenetrable mist within Carson’s head dissipated but very slowly. At first only vague sensations and smells leaked through into his brain, then he heard someone whisper from a great distance but was unable to grasp what was said. Gradually the voice came closer and some of the words reached down to him, the scraps didn’t make sense though. He tried to concentrate on the monotone, gentle voice. He was sure he knew the speaker but couldn’t quite figure it out; the fog made it unbelievably difficult to focus. The familiar voice was like a star his mind could steer by while he fought to finally reach the surface. Bit by bit, he succeeded in stringing the words together. Yet, with the blessing of understanding, the dull ache throughout his body became more and more dominant. Beckett tried to turn away from the throbbing pain but a soft hand steadied him instantly.
“Shh, Carson. Everything’s alright. Just relax. I know you’re in pain. I’ll give you something in a moment.”
‘Sam. The familiar voice, which had kept talking and talking, belonged to Sam.’ In spite of her soothing voice, his body tensed when her stroking hand deserted his cheek. The cool cloth was picked up from his brow. He heard the splashing of water, then the coolness returned to his head as did her hand. Trying to open his eyes, his eyelids fluttered.
“Easy, Carson, easy. Try to keep still and relax. You are on the ventilator. We had to intubate you last night. Do you remember?”
As the mist slowly cleared, his memory returned. The pain was now hardly bearable, especially that in his sore throat, but knowing there would be no escape, he resisted the urge to shift restlessly. With all his might he forced his eyes open, blinking the world into focus.
“Good morning, Dr Beckett.” Cole’s face beamed down at him.
Despite his aching body, the corners of his lips twitched. Samantha couldn’t suppress a hearty laughter, followed by an affectionate pat on his shoulder.
“Always the gentleman, always the charm.” Dr Cole’s smile faded after a few moments, and her expression grew serious again.
“Since you can’t talk with the breathing tube, we now set the rules.” She paused for a second to study his dilated blue eyes, making sure Beckett was still with her. “You blink once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’. Understood?”
He blinked once, comprehension clear in his face.
“Good. Then, how is the pain? Bad?”
Leaving aside their recent agreement, Carson rolled his eyes. Undoubtedly, she wouldn’t have any trouble deciphering what he meant. Due to the very potent drugs though, the sudden movement didn’t agree with his equilibrium at all and he was rewarded with a wave of nausea.
“I see. Can you manage, or do you want me to sedate you again?” Samantha asked tenderly although she was sure she knew the answer already.
The Scot’s eyes went wide for an instant, then hastily blinked twice.
“Thought so. But you know, I had to ask anyway.” She smiled apologetically at him.
Completely alert by now, he held her glance when she continued. “Okay, before I give you something to take off the edge, I want you to try something. The ventilator is set to AC mode, and I need to know whether you are still capable of spontaneous breathing. Now I want you to try and initiate a breath on your own. Can you do that for me, Carson?”
Dr Cole observed her boss carefully as he closed his eyes in concentration, clenching his fists from the effort of trying to comply with her request. But to no avail. No matter how hard he strove, his lungs remained unresponsive. Eventually a consoling hand settled on his shoulder, and when he opened his eyes in defeat, they were met with a sympathetic smile.
“Never mind. I never expected you to be able to breathe on your own. I just needed to be sure.” With that she switched the respirator again to Control Ventilation and busied herself with one of the vials and a syringe from the night stand. From the corner of his eyes, Beckett stared curiously at her.
“Just some Fentanyl”, Samantha explained while she injected the drug into his IV port. “Give it a moment to take effect. You should feel better soon.”
Lazily she sat back into the vacant chair. After a few seconds she witnessed her patient’s features beginning to loosen up, his tension finally easing. She waited another two minutes and contentedly noticed that his muscles had relaxed significantly.
“Better? Manageable?”
Carson blinked.
“Fine. One last question before I beat it and call it a night… day… whatever.” She leaned in and cast an inquiring glance at the CMO. “You up for some visitors? You know, I already had to literally trip one certain colonel and one certain astrophysicist on the virtual doorstep of the ICU before the first light of the morning.” The blond physician shook her head in fake despair.
Face lighting up and eyes expectantly smiling with joy, her dark-haired boss blinked again.
“Okay, stay tuned. I’ll go get the others.”
A/N 3: Okay, I admit there was one tiny little flaw in the continuity within this chapter but I liked that part so much that I kept it anyway. If you want to take a guess at what it was, PM me.
Surviving Sunday, Chapters VI-X
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~ Me owning Stargate: Atlantis? If only…! Then no one would have to fear for their lives, especially not a certain Scottish doctor, unless for whump’s sake of course…!
A/N: Although I have put some effort in the research of the medical stuff, please keep in mind I’m in no way claiming to have appropriate knowledge of what I’m writing about, and some things are plainly for dramatic purpose.
~ And muchísimas gracias to my twin sister twinchy for the beta!
A/N 2: BTW, should anyone consider my little fic worth archiving or saving to their harddrive, please feel free to do so as long as you don’t erase my name or copyright.
First Published: 14/02/ - 07/07/2007
Summary:
Different ending for 3.17, ‘Sunday’: lots of Carson whump, team angst/drama, mainly Sheppard and McKay though; happy ending guaranteed!
Word Count: 32,195
Spoilers: through 3.17, ‘Sunday’ (obviously)
Chapter I
A muffled detonation, the crackling static in the radio…
All of them knew instantly what this sudden silence meant but they didn’t dare even think of it, breathlessly hoping it would not come true as long as they refused to believe it. None of them moved or said a word. For an endless moment they stared blankly into nothingness, desperately waiting for the familiar voice that never came…
xXxXx
The man who had touched so many hearts, who had healed so many bodies and minds was gone. How could the world not fall to ruin? How could it not have shattered at this loss? How could the world survive without its kindest soul?
But time moved on, taking no heed, mercilessly ignoring the people reeling in pain. Twice the sun had gone down, and twice the sun had risen again, and there was still no waking from the never-ending nightmare.
Discreetly looking at the faces of the people gathered in the Gateroom for Carson’s memorial, Elizabeth sensed they all shared this feeling. No matter how hard some of them tried to hide it, she could see beyond their façade of suppressed emotions. Even Atlantis seemed to feel the loss.
As the pall-bearers were about to lift the coffin and make their way through the gate, bracing themselves for the burden far heavier on their hearts than the casket’s physical weight, Elizabeth’s radio crackled.
“Dr Weir, sis is Doctor Gitano,” a voice said in less than perfect English.
The expedition leader was outright annoyed to say the least at the completely inappropriate disturbance in the middle of the memorial service for one of her closest friends. Without waiting for an answer, Dr Gitano continued, “Please report at once at se infirmary, and bring Colonel Sheppard and Doctor McKay along. Sis is urgent. Gitano out.”
Rodney and John shot her a highly bemused glance at the inadequate interruption when Elizabeth called for them. Startled looks and a rising murmur accompanied the three of them as they headed for the infirmary with Teyla and Ronon following suit. The Satedan was fuming, determined to inflict a cruel fate upon whoever had dared to show such disrespect for the fallen.
xXxXx
Upon arriving at the infirmary, Dr Gitano met the group on the doorstep with a shy smile. While in Sheppard’s eyes annoyed irritation was predominant, McKay’s displayed open hatred for the doctor, and even Weir’s glance would have slain a Wraith. Teyla leaned heavily on Ronon, audibly panting, pain and distress engraved in her weary expression. Clearly intimidated by the sight of them, the elderly doctor had to swallow hard before he was able to speak.
“I… am… sorry,” he stammered, leading them to the intensive care area of the infirmary, “but as I said, sis is urgent. I need you to see sis.” When the physician drew back the curtain surrounding the bed, Elizabeth gave a cry, her hands flying to her mouth. Equally shocked, the others gasped in surprise…
A broad smile spread on the drained face of the man lying in the bed. “Still here…,” he whispered barely audible with a shaky, hoarse voice.
“Carson…?!?” John was the first to recover, disbelief obvious in his flabbergasted voice. He was not sure whether or not he could trust his eyes and ears. True, the past few days had been hard and he hadn’t slept since… − then… but were his eyes playing nasty tricks on him? What he saw before him was beyond possibility; it couldn’t be, he couldn’t hope for it to be true. The wave of contradictory feelings that washed over him seemed to overwhelm him. Bereft of words, he turned to McKay for help, searching the physicist’s eyes. Yet Rodney was in no state to offer John what he desperately sought. McKay stood there like a salt statue, pale as the sheets, expressionlessly staring at the bed. With his mouth open, he looked stricken, taking no notice of his surroundings or the others, who were in no better shape. Only Ronon seemed to have preserved at least the slightest grip on the real world, a genuine smile making its way from his mouth to the eyes.
“How… I mean… this is… how could… this… possible…?” Despite his best efforts, Rodney’s attempt to form a coherent sentence failed miserably.
“I hones’ly have ne idea,” came Carson’s soft reply, his slurred voice revealing he was heavily drugged.
In the background they heard another astounded exclaim, which shook them at last out of their apathy. Dr Cole had entered and was beside herself at the unexpected surprise.
“You look like shit, doc.” John’s teasing remark earned him a faint but hearty grin before the Scot’s eyes slowly drifted shut. The initial euphoria having subsided a bit, Sheppard had worriedly noticed for the first time how bad Carson looked, his face terribly swollen and as red as a cooked lobster, the rest of his body hidden under the bed sheets. John met Rodney’s eyes, perceiving that, beside the boundless relief they all felt, McKay had just realized exactly the same.
Dr Gitano silently called for the team’s attention and motioned them to leave. Obediently they followed him to another corner.
Chapter II
John Sheppard was pacing, always striding a dozen of steps in one direction, turning on his heel and striding a dozen of steps in the opposite direction. He behaved like a caged cheetah. Sitting on one of the infirmary chairs in the waiting area with his legs outstretched, Ronon shot him a dangerous look, silently renewing the threat which had Rodney caused to sit down just moments ago. Of course Dex felt every bit as anxious as the other two men but their impatient behaviour pulled at his nerves, even more than the uncertainty and this seemingly endless waiting. Feeling the imminent peril of being knocked out by the Satedan if he didn’t stop, John sighed heavily and perched on the seat between Ronon and Rodney. With a concerned expression he still tried to make sense of what little Dr Gitano and some resolute young marine had told them.
The clearing-up team had discovered Carson in a clothes locker in that very corridor, only a few feet away from the explosion… The doors of the locker had been bent out of shape from both the impact and the heat. In order to recover its content and see whether it was still in working order, they had opened the doors forcefully. What the startled men had found inside had taken their breath away. Within the compartment closest to the explosion the unconscious form of their CMO had sat crouched on the floor, his back against the sidewall, arms and legs resting against the locker’s back and door. The pitiful sight and the stench of burnt flesh and fabric as well as molten plastic almost made the men nauseous. None of them suspected the doctor was still alive, believing they had at last come across the body which they had not been able to locate until now.
Sergeant Meagre had stepped forward, volunteering for the thankless task of retrieving the body from the locker. Briefly closing his eyes he had readied himself, hesitating once again before he had reached out for the motionless form… and jumped back with a surprised gasp. “Im- p…possible…”, he had stammered white as a sheet. At his touch the presumed dead CMO had felt hot and let out the faintest of groans.
“Medical emergency in corridor 4b, infirmary floor! Hurry!” The others had gazed at him in total shock as the meaning of his words had sunk in.
When the doctors had arrived, they had been expecting anything but what they were presented with. Wide-eyed and unbelieving they had stared at their boss lying in the locker. It had taken a moment before they had busied themselves with assessing Carson’s condition, administering drugs and providing him with infusions. Upon reaching the trauma room, the attending physicians quickly perceived that Beckett had suffered severe burns and was running a high fever but wasn’t in immediate danger. Therefore the acting chief medic had decided to first inform Dr Weir of their discovery and call in Dr Cole to assist him in the more thorough analysis of his patient’s condition. Adding to their complete astonishment, Carson had regained consciousness and appeared relatively lucid by the time Dr Gitano had called for Elizabeth and the others to come to the infirmary. So the Columbian doctor had reluctantly agreed to let Beckett have his way and surprise his friends himself.
Now John, Rodney and Ronon were impatiently waiting for the results of the examination, shifting in their seats, longing to hear something more definite than the vague answers Dr Gitano had given them. It’s been more than one hour since they had been banned from the intensive care area, yet it felt like years. Why in all good heavens did time have to crawl by at snail’s pace when you were desperately waiting for something?!
About half an hour ago, Teyla had dozed off and was gently put into her bed by Ronon. Elizabeth had, despite her urge to stay, gone to resume her duties as the expedition leader, knowing she had to contact earth and notify the others who were still waiting at the memorial. The prospect of all the paperwork alone gave her a tension headache but one she gladly embraced. Actually, it seemed a small prize for the life of a dear friend.
xXxXx
Another half-hour passed without any news. Sheppard had begun pacing once more, unable to keep still. In fact, he hadn’t managed to sit for more than five minutes before getting up again. He needed to do something, anything. Claiming the same rights as John, Rodney had without hesitation joined the colonel in walking up and down the small room. Ronon had long given up trying to confine them to their seats, realizing this was an exercise in futility. ‘At least’, the Satedan dryly reflected, ‘McKay had stopped babbling.’ They all were very aware of the fact that Rodney worked his mouth a mile a minute to deal with the tension of a given situation but for his team mates his speed-talk attacks were unbearable, especially now. So Ronon wasn’t surprised at all when John had seconded his threat to shoot Rodney with his blaster, even leaving it open to the shocked scientist whether he would bother to set it to stun first. McKay had looked hurt and started to gesture wildly with his hands, another typical reaction, but he had shut up.
A deep growl emitted from Ronon’s throat to express his disapproval to the pacing, which considerably added to his own nervousness. At that moment Dr Cole entered, looking exhausted and worried. The trio wheeled around to face her, concerned and plainly afraid of what they might hear. She forced a reassuring smile, lack of conviction obvious in her eyes.
They followed the young physician across the infirmary towards Beckett’s office, every single step increasing their unease. John couldn’t help but think of the proverbial lamb led to the slaughter; only this time none of them walking down the quiet floor was the one whose life was at stake. ‘How fitting… she already claims his office for her own…’ Rodney brushed away the unsettling thought. Defeat was close but not yet at hand.
Once inside, Dr Cole shut the door, taking her time as she moved, clearly grateful for the short delay. When she faced the three men again, whose expressions ranged between mad with worry, impatient and quizzical, she knew there was no way to hold back the answers any longer. The answers they had desperately waited for, the answers they needed, the answers they deserved.
She sighed, hesitating once more before she finally spoke. “Dr Beckett is stable… for now.” The last part of her statement almost lost in the understandable relief.
John released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, noticing with a grin that beside him Rodney and Ronon also exhaled audibly. ‘So far for the good news’, Sheppard added silently, preparing himself for the bad part, which he knew was about to come. The doctor had been far too serious and cheerless to not having a hard blow in store. As usual, McKay had also sensed the adversative nature of Dr Cole’s words.
“But…?” Rodney prompted.
She sighed deeply. “Okay, no more beating about the bush.” Another pause, another sigh. This was hard on her as well. “Dr Beckett has suffered some very serious burns, mainly on his back, his left arm and leg, in fact everywhere he came in contact with the hot metal of the locker. These are third degree. Because of the heat that was trapped within the compartment, every part of his body that was not covered with clothes, such as his face, neck and arm, suffered from minor burns, first and second degree. His respiratory tract was also affected detrimentally when he inhaled the heat, making it difficult for him to breathe.” She paused for an instant, carefully eying Dr McKay, who had gone paler with every word.
“Maybe you want to take a seat before I continue”, the physician offered to no one in particular. Even Sheppard and Ronon welcomed the pause to collect themselves. They all sat down except for Dr Cole, who remained standing.
“Dr Beckett has lost a huge amount of fluid and runs a high fever from the poisoning of his system. But there are also symptoms of poisoning probably caused by inhaling the gas emitted from the molten plastic coat hangers.”
“How so?”, the Satedan interrupted.
“How so what?” Dr Cole asked back.
Ronon straightened on his chair. “Well, you told us something about poisoning his system. Why? What is poisoning his system?”
“Look”, the doctor began, “roughly 23 percent of his body suffered from burns of various degrees.” She ignored the sharp breath Rodney took in. “To counter the heat, the body floods the affected parts with fluid. This fluid contains lots of protein, which eventually breaks down into its poisonous components, these are spread across the whole body by the blood, causing a dangerous poisoning of the entire system. In serious cases this leads to renal failure, respiratory as well as cardiac arrest and ultimately death. In order to compensate the loss of fluid and to counter the poisoning, which causes the multi-organ failure, one must provide the patient with as much IV solution as possible. And then there is also the high risk of infections to the wounds. These are the reasons why so many patients with severe burns die eventually, even if they survive the immediate effects. So, except for tending to the burns and pain management, there is nothing much a doctor can do but wait.”
“And what about Carson? How bad is it?” John brought them back on topic, his stomach cramping at what he had just heard.
“As I said”, Dr Cole’s voice broke. She swallowed hard and then went on. “About 23 percent of his body are burned. Some of his wounds are already showing signs of infection, which, to be honest, is not surprising. After all he spent two whole days in that locker with his burns untended. Actually, I still marvel at the fact that he was able to survive that long without medical attention. It’s nothing short of a wonder he didn’t die immediately of the shock! And then, despite the loss of fluid, pulling through for another two days… Well gentlemen, if you ever wanted to witness a miracle happen, here is one.”
“Yeah”, Rodney muttered, admiration mixing with worry, “he may not look it but our good doc is as tough as they come!”
“What about these 23 percent you keep mentioning?” Ronon wanted to have an answer, NOW!
“Right. 23 percent means… depending on the person, his general constitution, everything above 15 to 20 percent is life-threatening. Dr Beckett’s condition will deteriorate considerably in the next few days before it hopefully improves. It is serious, he is not out of the woods yet and won’t be for some time. But if no complications occur, I think he should make it.” There it was again, the forced smile that couldn’t convince them.
“Does he know?” McKay’s soft voice was hardly above a whisper. He was pretty sure he knew the answer already but couldn’t help asking anyway.
Dr Cole was no longer able to hold their questioning gaze and looked down to the floor as she replied just as softly. “I wish he didn’t.” A long pause followed before the lump in her throat allowed her to speak again. “He is in great pain but lucid. I mean I didn’t read his chart to him but he is too good a doctor to not know. In fact he’s the damn best physician I ever met. Dr Beckett certainly doesn’t know all the details but he is well aware of his condition and what lies ahead of him. No doubt, sometimes knowing all too well is a curse!”
A heavy silence spread in the small office. The three men needed some time to take in the information and its implications.
“Can we see him?”
The young doctor wanted to decline the request. Their CMO definitely needed to rest right now and gather all his remaining strength for the days to come. But knowing her boss would be overjoyed to see his friends, and looking at the stern faces, laden with concern, she hesitated and finally gave in. “Alright then, but only two of you, and only for a few minutes. I mean it.”
“I’ll tell Dr Weir and the others”, Ronon volunteered, leaving the room while speaking.
When Dr Cole turned to leave as well, John and Rodney immediately wanted to join her but she raised a hand, stopping them in their track. “Wait. Not so fast, Colonel, Doctor. First I’ll go check whether or not he is in any condition to receive visitors. Come back in half an hour and I’ll let you to him if he is fit enough.” With that she marched out of Carson’s office, leaving the two men at a loss.
Rodney looked wide-eyed at John, having no clue what he could do during that time. ‘Well, I could always get something to eat. Really, I’m starving.’ “Am headed for the mess hall. See you in 30 minutes”, he called to his perplexed friend while rushing out.
After McKay had left, Sheppard tried to come up with something he could do. Eating was out of the question, the mere thought of inflicting food upon his unsteady stomach was hideous.
Chapter III
Approximately 20 minutes later John was on his way to the mess hall, sure Rodney would still be there, filling his tummy with whatever was available. To his complete surprise he found McKay gone. ‘Maybe he is already on his way to the infirmary”, the colonel reflected. Patience was a virtue but certainly none Rodney McKay pursued.
Increasing his pace to not risk Rodney gaining access to the secluded area of the infirmary before him, he passed several corridors, coming to a sudden halt when a strange yet familiar sound to the right of him caught his attention. There was a small balcony, the door standing wide open. He strained his ears to listen more closely to the whispered words interspersed with soft sobs. ‘What was McKay doing out there?’ Realization hit him like a ton of bricks when he recognized some of the words: The always matter-of-fact-I-don’t-believe-in-anything-but-myself scientist was weeping… and what was more, praying.
Usually, this would have been a feast for John Sheppard, something he would have mercilessly used to his advantage but somehow it just filled him with wonder now. He himself had never felt the urge to imagine a higher being which was to blame for all the shit that had happened in his life, or to which he felt obliged to thank if he had come clear of a dangerous situation. But what he had witnessed today, the unexpected resurrection of one of his closest friends, could really make you believe! If there was such a thing as the perfect day to find your faith, this just might be very well it.
John resisted the desire to go outside and lay a reassuring hand on Rodney’s shoulder, knowing his friend would feel thoroughly embarrassed if he did. Therefore he decided to head for the infirmary instead and leave it to that. McKay would be right on his heels as soon as he got a grip on himself. Nothing in this universe would keep Rodney from seeing Carson in a few minutes; pity the poor soul who tried.
xXxXx
Rodney had ignored the unbelieving look on John’s face, just like the subsequent head shaking. He didn’t care that Sheppard was truly convinced his personal world only revolved around food. He wouldn’t have been able to tell him that he needed some time for himself anyway, exclusively reserved for his own thoughts. He had walked off with no idea at all where to go, simply pretending to purposefully go in a certain direction. Somehow he had ended up on this small balcony, absentmindedly staring at the sunset.
No one understood what it meant to him that Carson was still alive, not even John. True, he and John were close as anyone and there were a lot of things they shared. But with Beckett it was different. The gentle Scot was the sweetest soul one could imagine. Sometimes he was the biggest baby himself, especially when it came to using the control chair. He really was the mother hen of Atlantis if ever there was one! And often enough his caring and compassionate behaviour drove Rodney crazy. How could someone with such a big heart and stupid integrity ever make it in life? His cheerful and forgiving demeanour was at times plainly outraging, when he shrugged off every insult thrown at him with an endearing smile.
Probably everyone in Atlantis was convinced John was Rodney’s closest friend, and he undoubtedly spent most of his time with the colonel, both on and off duty. So it was most likely true that Sheppard had become his best friend over the past three years but Carson felt more like a brother rather than a friend, a kindred soul somehow. Losing Beckett had ripped his heart apart; the fact that he was guilt-stricken for having treated Carson in such a shoddy way far too often and especially on his last day, adding to the feeling.
Now it seemed as though he was granted a second chance, a chance to do a better job letting Carson know how much he cared for him as well. Okay, Rodney was a realist, and teasing the dark-haired physician was way too much fun a habit to give up, but he was determined to enjoy the time with Beckett more consciously and never forget how awful it had felt to lose him. Before he had even realized it, he had begun to pray, tears of joy and despair streaming down his face. No, none of them understood what it meant to him…
His watch beeped, interrupting his heartfelt reflections. With his right sleeve he wiped the tears away. It was time to pay Carson a visit.
xXxXx
Sheppard and Dr Cole already awaited him as Rodney entered the infirmary. John had a mischievous grin on his face, trying hard to refrain from mocking the physicist about his reddened eyes. For once he would let dignity get the better of him and spare McKay the embarrassment of revealing his knowledge.
Prior to leading the colonel and the doctor to the CMO, she had warned them to not touch any of the equipment and instantly clear the path for the medical personnel should any emergency arise. Further she had instructed them to at least attempt to conceal their concern or their shock at seeing him. The two friends had shared an uneasy glance, afraid at what they might find when Dr Cole thought it was necessary to tell them something so obvious.
Once they passed the curtain separating Carson’s bed from the rest of the intensive care section, they immediately understood why Dr Cole had felt the need to tip them off. The loveable Scot gave a truly pitiful sight, making the two visitors grateful for what little privacy the curtain offered. He was attached to many monitors and tubes, several IV poles were holding bags with solutions. Spread around the bed there were also some menacing machines, which weren’t currently online but obviously considered handy for later use or in case of an emergency. A nasal cannula provided the doctor with oxygen, his breathing was noticeably strained, and he had his eyes closed. His face and neck were still as swollen and red as they remembered it from earlier on. A wet cloth was placed over his brow to give Carson’s fever stricken head some comfort. Lying above the blanket, only the IV ports protruded from his fully bandaged arms, on the left side not even the fingertips were visible. As before, the rest of his body was hidden under the sheets.
When Rodney and John approached the bed and silently slid down on the two chairs, Carson opened his eyes. Amidst the red of his face, their pale blue colour appeared bluer than ever, almost mesmerizing. In spite of the evident pain displayed in his features, the usual cheerful sparkle in his eyes was still present.
“Och, don’ ye look a’ me tha’ way, lads”, Carson croaked. “Ye look worse than I feel, an’ that’s sayin’ somethin’.”
Sheppard and McKay exchanged a meaningful glance, unable to suppress a smirk. Before too long Sheppard broke the uneasy silence, “Can I ask you something, doc?”
“Go ahea’.
”How the hell did you manage to get into that damn locker?” John didn’t even try to hide his amazement.
Carson closed his eyes, for a moment intently searching his memory. When he opened them again, he took no heed of his visitors, apparently fixing some distant shadow through a thick veil, his voice strangely absent. “I don’ know about gettin’ in or bein’ in. I vaguely seem te remember the door o’ one o’ the compartments stood open when I went past it. Possibly someone was stuffin’ somethin’ inside when I ordered everyone te leave. I cannae tell you more, son. Sorry.”
“Guess what,” Rodney chimed in, face beaming at his sudden idea to lighten the mood. “We even had a bag-piper for your memorial service today!”
“McKay!” John was exasperated at Rodney’s thoughtless outburst, shooting him an annoyed glance immediately followed by a hard jab into his ribs. McKay cried out, playing innocent, completely unaware of his lack of tact.
Beckett couldn’t help a wholehearted chuckle at the comment and the scene. “You two are the death o’ me one day! Hones’ly, I’m touched but ye can jus’ as well send a bag-piper te me while I’m still alive.”
All of a sudden the curtain was drawn back, revealing nurse Chun So Mae. Despite her delicate physique, she gave a quite imposing image, standing there in the dim light, both hands steady on her hips. Startled the three men stared at her, innocent expression and wide grin on their faces.
“What is all the fuss and noise about?!” she inquired sternly.
“Sorry”, all three of them said with one voice, the apologetic tone lost in the playful laughter.
“That’s it, gentlemen!” Her grumpy tone left no room for discussion. “Time is up. You two shouldn’t be here anyway. Dr Beckett needs to rest.”
Knowing better than to push their luck any further, John and Rodney reluctantly rose from their seats.
“Get well soon. And doc?” Sheppard didn’t wait for an answer. “We’re awfully glad you’re still here!” His relief and joy giving those words a fitting ring to them.
“I know, son.” The exhausted physician sighed audibly. “So am I.”
“See you tomorrow if the warden lets us in.” Casting one last mischievous smile at Beckett, John and Rodney sneaked out.
xXxXx
Later at night, Dr Cole was sitting in Carson’s office, intent on getting some paper work done when something subconsciously entered her mind. For a few minutes she couldn’t quite make out what exactly it was that had distracted her from the file she was working on. But something surely caused her a distinct feeling of unease. She listened to the quiet infirmary. When all of a sudden realization hit her, she was at once on her feet…
Chapter IV
John awoke early that morning. During the night he had lain tossing and turning for hours, trying in vain to really comprehend what had happened. Yet finally exhaustion had won over restlessness and he had fallen into a dreamless slumber, at last allowing his body the much-needed sleep his troubled mind had denied him for too long. After their visit in the infirmary, Rodney and he had instinctively known where to go. There had never been a call for a meeting but nevertheless, many people had gathered in the conference room, patiently waiting for news. So the room had been literally packed when the two of them had arrived. Sheppard smiled as he recalled the utter relief in their faces. For the first time in months John felt at peace. At peace with himself. But most of all with fate in general. Today life was good!
At breakfast Rodney hardly said a word, even failing to complain about the ‘dishwater they call coffee’. For John it felt strange to have the ever-grating scientist gnawing at a single slice of bread and not say anything. Sure, Sheppard hadn’t been surprised by this behaviour when they all had thought Carson was dead, but he would have bet a fortune to find McKay his usual self again this morning. Something was obviously still worrying his friend, and the fact that Rodney refused to talk about it only increased his own disquiet. Knowing better than trying to prompt Rodney to tell what was up, they finished their breakfast at the ungodly hour of pre-sunrise in an atypical silence that weighed heavily on both of them.
Before starting their working day, they wanted to pay Beckett a short visit and share some good-natured banter with the witty doc. As the colonel and the physicist entered the quiet infirmary, the lights were low. The nurses of the nightshift were chatting with their colleagues of the dayshift over a cup of coffee, which the first needed to keep their tired eyes open and the latter to actually wake up. Mildly amused at the scene that was mirrored to a T in the doctors’ room, John and Rodney exchanged a glance. Their cunning plan to sneak in unnoticed at change of shift seemed to work fine; no one paid any attention to the trespassers. Unhindered they ventured further through the deserted infirmary to the intensive care unit, each step bolder than the previous one.
All of a sudden they heard someone walk up behind them. For one split second John considered hiding behind a curtain but it was already too late; they were caught!
“What do you gentlemen think you are doing here?” a stern voice asked.
With a look of pure innocence on his face, Rodney whirled around, hand darting to his chest. “Whoa! Dr Cole, how can you startle us like that? It’s your fault if I die of a heart attack one of these days.” The last bit was offered in the all too familiar annoyed tone of voice, vibrating with accusation.
The colonel marvelled at his friend’s ability to immediately switch into his usual inflammatory mode and even manage to keep his face straight, while he himself couldn’t muster anything beyond a sheepish smile with a good portion of his most seductive boyish charm thrown in for good measure. Unfortunately the doctor didn’t seem very impressed with either strategy. Her weary brown eyes displayed only the merest hint of amusement, and she was clearly in no mood to let them proceed.
With a no-nonsense look she ignored McKay’s comment and continued, “You can’t see Dr Beckett now. But I need to talk to you.”
xXxXx
Usually Dr Cole referred to her boss by first name, yet somehow in this situation it was much easier for her to call him Dr Beckett, thus creating some distance between her as a doctor and their critically wounded CMO as a patient. She needed this distance now, needed to disconnect her feelings in order to be able to do her job.
The two men were standing across the desk, fixing her sight and tracking down her every movement, deep furrows of worry engraved in their faces. Of course they had instantly known that her statement was not a good sign. To Sheppard’s growing anxiety, McKay had murmured something about ‘ill-boding’ and ‘being cut off when radioing in earlier’ all along the way to Carson’s office. This must have been the reason for Rodney’s peculiar behaviour. But why hadn’t he told him that he feared something was wrong? Why the hell hadn’t he told him? Instead John had walked in here with high hopes, which were about to be shattered once again.
The physician in front of them collected herself and took a deep breath, a simple habit both men had learned to dread. She let out a sigh, involuntarily reliving last night’s events as she began…
Dashing out of the room, she crossed the short distance between Carson’s office and his infirmary bed. Beckett’s breaths came laboured and irregular but he managed a smile when she arrived.
“Don’ ye worry, lass… ‘M fine.”
“Let me be the judge of that”, she muttered concerned. Countless times she had overheard him say just that to a patient. She had always guessed that in this matter Carson was no better than his favourite bed occupants he kept complaining about. But what he was playing down so casually was really serious, and he knew it. With practised routine Samantha Cole checked the readings on the monitors, noticing the alarmingly low oxygen saturation and the increased fever while inwardly scolding the night nurse for paying so little attention to a critical patient. They would have a serious talk about that later.
“Betsy, where the hell are you?!” If ever she had tried to keep her voice level, she had failed.
Said nurse rounded the corner and rushed towards the fuming doctor. Betsy looked apprehensive and guilt-ridden because she knew she had neglected to inform Dr Cole that she needed to go to the bathroom and it was a grave mistake to leave a critical patient without surveillance. But she had been gone for only a few minutes and Dr Beckett had been doing relatively okay. Why did something have to happen now of all moments?
When Betsy approached, Carson smiled sympathetically at her, fully aware that a decent dressing down was in store for her. After all, he himself had insisted she could go, being perfectly capable of looking after himself, especially since Samantha was in immediate vicinity.
“No’ her faul’… Said ‘twas okay”, the CMO whispered between two gasps. Breathing was becoming more and more difficult for him but he valiantly stood his ground.
“You”, and Dr Cole emphasized the first word dramatically, “are the patient this time, not the doctor!” Her stern expression and voice softened considerably before she carried on, “Seems like we’ll have to intubate soon, I’m afraid.” She laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Slowly Carson shook his head, “No’ yet, Sam... I ca’… can manage… a few more… minutes.” His ragged breaths clearly telling otherwise.
“You know that’s not true. Your oxygen saturation has fallen abysmally”, the young physician answered quietly and stroke his cheek in a calming gesture. “I can understand that you are less than thrilled but unlike most patients we’re treating here, you know that it will actually help, not harm you.”
Although his heart rate was already accelerated, the beeping of the monitor beside him increased some more, mercilessly betraying his best efforts to appear brave. As a matter of fact, he was outright terrified at the thought of getting hooked up to the ventilator. Being a doctor, he rationally knew all too well that needing life support wasn’t such a big deal, but now on the receiving end, as a doctor and a patient, he felt fear overwhelm him. Still, it was not only that strong sensation of helplessness that freaked him out. Considering his burns, he had expected his deteriorating condition would lead to this, but had desperately hoped it wouldn’t come so soon. Already being dependent on assisted breathing at this time during the healing process, didn’t bode well at all for his chances of survival. Carson knew he could hardly postpone the intubation any much longer, but simply letting it happen and handing over his precious life to an unfeeling machine felt like giving up, submitting to his injuries. He didn’t want to surrender. Not now. Never. If it had been possible to keep breathing by pure willpower, he would have forced the air into his straining lungs. But with every passing minute he could sense his life slip through his fingers and his consciousness drift away.
A gentle hand stroke through his sweaty hair while a soft voice next to him ordered the intubation kit and the appropriate medications. Desperately, Carson glanced up at Samantha’s compassionate face. He wondered whether he ever looked so much at a loss when it came to treating patients who were dear to him. Once his condition became life threatening, Dr Cole didn’t need Beckett’s consent to proceed, he knew that. And as much as he knew that she would do it without his approval, he appreciated her waiting for his agreement. She was a good doctor, he was proud to have her on the team.
“Don’… wan’ te... give up…”, Beckett panted breathlessly. “No’ so… easily.”
“You’re not giving up, Carson.” Cole’s pitiful voice touched him deeply. Rationally the CMO understood she was right but it was so much harder to bring his emotions beyond the feeling of utter despair.
“Do you allow us to intubate you?” Her soothing calmness and consoling touch comforted him.
After a few seconds Carson nodded slowly. “B’t please… don’ make me… sleep t’ll… kingdom come…” A lonely tear escaped his eye, rolling down his reddened face.
“I’ll let you wake up in the morning. Promise.”
A powerful wave of drowsiness engulfed Beckett as the Versed was administered into his IV port, washing his consciousness away within seconds. He tried to cling to awareness as long as he could. Eyes drooping he only just felt the pancuronium, the paralysing second injection take effect. From far away he more felt than heard a faint voice say, “Sleep well.”
He didn’t feel anymore his body go limp or his breathing stop altogether, nor did he feel tender hands tilting his head back and smoothly easing the tube down his trachea before the rhythmical thud of the ventilator commenced. There was only darkness and he let go…
Chapter V
“It doesn’t end here, right?” Rodney’s voice sounded strangely detached.
“Pardon?” Dr Cole snapped out of her account.
“I said, it didn’t end here, right?” The physicist obviously didn’t care to elaborate, thinking she had just missed the words.
“I’m not quite sure what you’re aiming at, Dr McKay.”
With his head swirling from medical terms, even Sheppard didn’t have the slightest idea what Rodney wanted to know. So, receiving a quizzical look from both, the blond physician and his dark-haired friend, the scientist tried again.
“I mean, it’s not the end of the road. It’s still getting worse, isn’t it?” he uttered with slightly trembling voice. It was more of a statement rather than a question.
She looked to the floor, searching for answers, unsure what she should tell them. The silence in the room became almost tangible. After a moment she inhaled deeply, hesitating once again before she eventually spoke. “Yes, his condition will worsen further; probably a lot.” Her voice was low but steady. “The infection has taken a firm hold of his wounds, and for the moment the antibiotics we’re giving him don’t show any effect. I won’t lie to you, if his condition keeps deteriorating at this rate…”, she never finished the sentence, she didn’t have to.
Wide-eyed and unbelieving Rodney and John stared at the doctor in front of them. What she told so calmly, seemingly unfeeling, turned their world upside-down. ‘Yes’, John recalled, ‘she had said Carson was not out of the woods yet’, but he had never realized just what exactly this meant. All of them had beaten the odds so many times; Carson - for goodness sake - had even returned from the dead! John had never once even considered the possibility that the gentle Scotsman could still actually die. He had expected Beckett to get a little worse - yes -, taking his time to fight off the fever - yes -, bitching and moaning about the pain and the possible scars - though that was really Rodney’s department -, all the while contentedly chatting with his friends, just like the night before…
Now, the seriousness of the situation caught up with him. He felt himself trapped in a cruel universe keen on mercilessly taking away again what had looked like a generous gift at first glance, thus making the loss even more unbearable.
The physicist beside him struggled for words, subconsciously grabbing for the back-rest of the nearest chair to support his wobbly legs. Finding the assistance still not quite sufficient to forestall the danger of his knees giving way under him, he finally succeeded in planting himself into it. John had always believed Rodney’s panic attacks were unnerving but his friend was now clearly beyond panic, and that terrified Sheppard even more.
“You came here to see Dr Beckett”, Cole broke the uncomfortable silence. “And I think that’s a very good idea. Having his friends around will certainly lift his spirit and motivate him to mobilize every last resource of strength. As long as he is up to it, you, Dr Weir, Ronon and Teyla are free to visit him. Two conditions though: no more than two visitors at once, after all he needs rest to gather his strength; and you immediately get out of the way in case of an emergency.” She paused briefly. “He will wake up in an hour or two. If everything’s alright, I’ll call you over the radio, then you can see him.”
xXxXx
John was at a loss what to do. So early in the morning most people were still asleep or at the most getting up by now. Strolling to the Gateroom, he even found Elizabeth’s office deserted. Well, so much for the plan to debrief Weir in the meantime. He considered going to the gym and see whether he could convince Ronon to spar with him. But the Satedan was probably not up yet, either.
‘What to do? What to do?’
The colonel turned on his heel, undecided where to go next. Silently he envied Rodney for his lab work. He was pretty sure McKay had no problems distracting himself for the time being. The man was always busy, busier than seemed healthy; but that was another matter. Involuntarily Sheppard remembered his neglected paperwork.
‘Nah, I’m not that desperate…!’ He dismissed the idea.
Suddenly something sprang to his mind. He turned around and headed off.
xXxXx
Rodney had walked off to his lab where Zelenka was already at work. Judging from his tired face, Radek too hadn’t had much sleep if any at all. Just like McKay, the Czech was famous for his night shifts, and given the circumstances of the past few days, in which their feelings had gone through the proverbial roller coaster ride, their insomnia was hardly surprising.
“Morning, Rodney.” Zelenka tried to stifle a compromising yawn.
‘Definitely the whole-night shift’, McKay concluded. “Ah Radek, what are you still doing here? Have you even tried to take a nap before messing up my whole research of over a week?”
The snappy remark remained unanswered as Zelenka unsuccessfully took another attempt at suppressing a yawn.
“Come on, Radek. Take your stubborn butt and remove your head from my sight to get some shut-eye before you accidentally blow up the whole city! If I find you anywhere near the lab within the next four hours, I’ll have my good buddy Ronon take care of your sleeplessness…” The mock threat caused both scientists a smile.
At first Radek seemed unwilling to leave but finally he relented. “Okay. And when you go see Carson, give him my best.”
“Will do. Now go already.” With that Rodney turned around, hiding his worry, and tried to busy himself with something while waiting for the anticipated call.”
xXxXx
Dr Cole’s estimation had been quite accurate. Roughly one hour after the astrophysicist and the colonel had left the infirmary, Carson became restless in his sleep. Although her shift had officially ended about half an hour ago, she now pulled a chair closer to his bed. Of course Dr Jollet could have handled it, but she had been there when her boss had been put to sleep; now she wanted to be there when he regained consciousness. After all, her migraine had been at least part of the reason he had ended up in his own infirmary with severe burns. And already being off duty proved an immense advantage, for she didn’t have to split her attention between several patients but was able to concentrate on just one person. One very special person.
On the night stand beside the bed various vials of medication and syringes were assembled. Dr Beckett’s awakening would not be a pleasant one. She had never experienced it herself but she understood that coming round when intubated was less than comfortable, even terrifying at times. That was one of the main reasons why patients on a ventilator usually remained sedated. Yet, apart from the discomfort, there was nothing against letting such a patient come to. Still, because of the burns in his respiratory tract, the breathing tube would cause considerable pain. So, should he start to writhe or struggle, Dr Cole would not hesitate to put him back to sleep, even against his explicit wish.
As Samantha watched the dark-haired man in front of her slowly wake up and become more and more aware of his surroundings, she slipped from her chair and reached at the ventilator controls, setting it to Assist Control. There was no way of knowing whether her superior was still able to initiate breaths of his own; she doubted it, but she couldn’t be entirely sure, either. And having to endure Control Ventilation while conscious if his spontaneous breathing hadn’t stopped altogether, was simply cruel. Soothingly she began to talk to Carson in order to keep him calm. She took the damp cloth from his forehead, rinsed it in the basin on the night stand and gently washed the sweat from Beckett’s feverish face, then, rinsing it once more, she placed it back on his brow. Subconsciously savouring the cool sensation, which brought momentary relief from the heat, the CMO slightly turned his head in Cole’s direction.
“Shhh, try to lie still. I know you are very uncomfortable and hot but try to move as little as possible.”
His awareness was still too far away to catch the meaning of the words but nevertheless, the calming tone of voice had the desired effect and Beckett settled down again. Knowing from experience that it was hard work for a patient to surface from a medically induced sleep, the young physician moved her chair even closer to the head of the bed and tenderly stroked his cheek, all the while quietly talking to her boss, providing an anchor to the real world to which he could cling.
The thick, impenetrable mist within Carson’s head dissipated but very slowly. At first only vague sensations and smells leaked through into his brain, then he heard someone whisper from a great distance but was unable to grasp what was said. Gradually the voice came closer and some of the words reached down to him, the scraps didn’t make sense though. He tried to concentrate on the monotone, gentle voice. He was sure he knew the speaker but couldn’t quite figure it out; the fog made it unbelievably difficult to focus. The familiar voice was like a star his mind could steer by while he fought to finally reach the surface. Bit by bit, he succeeded in stringing the words together. Yet, with the blessing of understanding, the dull ache throughout his body became more and more dominant. Beckett tried to turn away from the throbbing pain but a soft hand steadied him instantly.
“Shh, Carson. Everything’s alright. Just relax. I know you’re in pain. I’ll give you something in a moment.”
‘Sam. The familiar voice, which had kept talking and talking, belonged to Sam.’ In spite of her soothing voice, his body tensed when her stroking hand deserted his cheek. The cool cloth was picked up from his brow. He heard the splashing of water, then the coolness returned to his head as did her hand. Trying to open his eyes, his eyelids fluttered.
“Easy, Carson, easy. Try to keep still and relax. You are on the ventilator. We had to intubate you last night. Do you remember?”
As the mist slowly cleared, his memory returned. The pain was now hardly bearable, especially that in his sore throat, but knowing there would be no escape, he resisted the urge to shift restlessly. With all his might he forced his eyes open, blinking the world into focus.
“Good morning, Dr Beckett.” Cole’s face beamed down at him.
Despite his aching body, the corners of his lips twitched. Samantha couldn’t suppress a hearty laughter, followed by an affectionate pat on his shoulder.
“Always the gentleman, always the charm.” Dr Cole’s smile faded after a few moments, and her expression grew serious again.
“Since you can’t talk with the breathing tube, we now set the rules.” She paused for a second to study his dilated blue eyes, making sure Beckett was still with her. “You blink once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’. Understood?”
He blinked once, comprehension clear in his face.
“Good. Then, how is the pain? Bad?”
Leaving aside their recent agreement, Carson rolled his eyes. Undoubtedly, she wouldn’t have any trouble deciphering what he meant. Due to the very potent drugs though, the sudden movement didn’t agree with his equilibrium at all and he was rewarded with a wave of nausea.
“I see. Can you manage, or do you want me to sedate you again?” Samantha asked tenderly although she was sure she knew the answer already.
The Scot’s eyes went wide for an instant, then hastily blinked twice.
“Thought so. But you know, I had to ask anyway.” She smiled apologetically at him.
Completely alert by now, he held her glance when she continued. “Okay, before I give you something to take off the edge, I want you to try something. The ventilator is set to AC mode, and I need to know whether you are still capable of spontaneous breathing. Now I want you to try and initiate a breath on your own. Can you do that for me, Carson?”
Dr Cole observed her boss carefully as he closed his eyes in concentration, clenching his fists from the effort of trying to comply with her request. But to no avail. No matter how hard he strove, his lungs remained unresponsive. Eventually a consoling hand settled on his shoulder, and when he opened his eyes in defeat, they were met with a sympathetic smile.
“Never mind. I never expected you to be able to breathe on your own. I just needed to be sure.” With that she switched the respirator again to Control Ventilation and busied herself with one of the vials and a syringe from the night stand. From the corner of his eyes, Beckett stared curiously at her.
“Just some Fentanyl”, Samantha explained while she injected the drug into his IV port. “Give it a moment to take effect. You should feel better soon.”
Lazily she sat back into the vacant chair. After a few seconds she witnessed her patient’s features beginning to loosen up, his tension finally easing. She waited another two minutes and contentedly noticed that his muscles had relaxed significantly.
“Better? Manageable?”
Carson blinked.
“Fine. One last question before I beat it and call it a night… day… whatever.” She leaned in and cast an inquiring glance at the CMO. “You up for some visitors? You know, I already had to literally trip one certain colonel and one certain astrophysicist on the virtual doorstep of the ICU before the first light of the morning.” The blond physician shook her head in fake despair.
Face lighting up and eyes expectantly smiling with joy, her dark-haired boss blinked again.
“Okay, stay tuned. I’ll go get the others.”
A/N 3: Okay, I admit there was one tiny little flaw in the continuity within this chapter but I liked that part so much that I kept it anyway. If you want to take a guess at what it was, PM me.
Surviving Sunday, Chapters VI-X
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