SGA GEN FIC: Fault (7/9), Rated T
SUMMARY: And even though Colonel Sheppard had made the call, he knew it was still all his fault. Tag for Misbegotten. Carson + team fic.
SEASON/SPOILERS: Season 3. Tag for Misbegotten.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's finally complete! Not a doctor, but medical stuff is researched with some dramatic licensing, but nothing worse than what we'd see on the show, really.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or anything associated with it. I'm simply borrowing, but I promise to return all in one piece. Eventually.
Sheppard was surprised that Beckett had requested his presence in the infirmary. He'd thought that once Carson was truly awake enough to remember what had happened, that he'd be low on the doctor's want-to-see list. But the nurse who'd found him said that Beckett was rather insistent and that he'd also asked to see Heightmeyer.
Now Heightmeyer, that was a request he understood. But why the hell did Carson also want him there? The only thing he could think of was that perhaps the man was mad enough at him to want a mediator.
"Carson, this might not be a good idea in your current medical condition."
Heightmeyer's voice, and it didn't sound too pleased, Sheppard noted as he made his way towards Beckett's bed in the infirmary.
"My current medical condition is stable." Beckett. "I need to do this, Kate."
"Do what?" he asked, causing both doctors to turn and look at him. Carson's eyes, however, squinted slightly at the motion.
Headache, no doubt. Beckett did look a bit better since the last time he'd seen him, but that wasn't to say he looked at all healthy. If anything, the shadows under his eyes were more pronounced and he was still attached to as much equipment as he had been a few hours previous.
"Hello, Colonel Sheppard," Heightmeyer greeted with a sigh. "Dr. Beckett wants to undergo hypnosis."
"Hypnosis?" His brow furrowed. "Look, I'm not a doctor, but is that such a great idea right now? Doc, you had your brain cut into like ten hours ago."
"Hypnosis has been used to reduce pain after surgery, even during surgery, something I'm sure Dr. Heightmeyer is aware of," Beckett replied. He looked determined, though Sheppard hadn't a clue why. He knew the doc didn't remember much about his ordeal with Michael, except that he'd advocated for the lives of the transformed Wraith and that he'd been against the bomb.
"I am well aware of that, Carson. But you don't want to use it for that. Plus, hypnosis can profoundly alter sensory awareness and cognitive processing, involving the frontal cortex. Hypnotic susceptibility has been linked with the efficiency of the frontal attention system, which, while you're now stable and on the mend, you still had surgery in that area a short time ago. You may not even be a good subject."
"I'd be just fine, trust me," Carson shifted slightly in the bed. "I'm a good subject. In medical school, I was the person all the first-year students practiced on. Very easily hypnotized, my professor said." His eyes shifted downward. "Probably made it easier for Michael, actually."
Heightmeyer placed her hand on his arm. "That, I doubt. We know it is impossible for any of us to resist a Wraith mind probe." She nodded her head toward John. "Even Colonel Sheppard."
"Sure," he agreed, not caring to revisit that memory at the moment. He could sympathize with Beckett, definitely, though the only physical effect he'd had was a hell of a migraine. But that didn't really explain why he was here and what Beckett expected to achieve with this idea. "Um, but while I understand why Heightmeyer is here, why am I?"
Beckett's gaze remained fixed on his blanket. "I've been compromised," he said. He moved his arm from Heightmeyer's touch and his fingers started picking at the tape holding the IV line in his other arm in place.
Sheppard took a step past Heightmeyer to reach out and move Beckett's fingers away from the IV, thinking briefly how at any other time he'd have found the role reversal amusing. "You shouldn't pick at that, Doc," he said simply instead. "And what do you mean, compromised?"
"I let Michael-"
"Whoah, you didn't let Michael do anything. Last I checked you didn't exactly give him permission to mind probe you."
Carson looked up at him. "No, I didn't," he agreed. "But I should have been able to resist…he found out about the bomb, Colonel. The only way he could have known was through me. And if he found that out, who knows what else he discovered."
"Resist? Doc, his mind probing caused enough damage that your brain was bleeding!" Beckett's expression didn't change; it clearly wasn't good enough reasoning for him.
"He is right," Heightmeyer echoed. "Does Dr. Biro or Dr. Harper know what you want to do?"
"It's none of their concern," Carson answered.
"Which means no," John translated. "You wouldn't let me pull this crap, Doc. No reason you can, either."
Heightmeyer sighed again, rather deeply. John had a feeling it was something she did often. She shook her head. "We're not doing this, Carson, until I get medical clearance from someone with an objective view of your condition. And we know that isn't you." She patted his arm again. "I think Carol is on duty, I'll go find her."
Beckett opened his mouth in what John was certain would be a protest, but he simply closed it a moment later and nodded. Heightmeyer gave them both a small smile and left to seek out the pathologist.
For a minute or two, there was only silence between the two of them. Sheppard wondered if he could do something to ease some of the tension he felt in the air. But he admittedly sucked at things like this. It was why he was a pilot and not a diplomat. Still, he'd give it his best shot.
"I want to apologize, Carson." Beckett blinked, and John could see that the use of his first name did not go unnoticed. He and Carson were friends, no doubt, but he still called him Doc or Beckett more often than Carson. "Not for the call I made. It wasn't exactly successful, true, but it was the right one. But I should have never let you stay on that planet and-"
"It's not your fault, Colonel," Carson interrupted, his voice still low. John watched his gaze drop down again. "I mean, yes, it was your call and I didn't agree with it being the right one, but it was a call you may have not had to make if I hadn't let Michael…"
John shook his head. "Not this again, doc. Stop beating yourself up. You're not a soldier. You're a doctor. You may need to get out a little more, sure, but…" He paused. "You don't need to do this."
"Aye, I do," Carson insisted. "Even you can't deny that knowing exactly what Michael learned would be useful."
"Useful, maybe, but we don't even know if he made off the planet. McKay could have hit him."
"No life signs on that planet, Colonel. I remember learning that much before I collapsed. I doubt Rodney hit them all, given the fact he'd said it was a long shot to do so. Even if he did, chances are all them wouldn't have died immediately. No life signs," he repeated. He leaned back in the bed, pressing his head into the pillow, closing his eyes.
"Carson?" First name, again. He was worried. Even though Biro and Harper had both said Beckett would be okay, John wasn't sure he truly believed it.
Carson's eyes opened. "Just a wee headache," he said. "Normal, I assure you."
"You need something for it?"
"No, lad. Just piece of mind. And frankly, I'm not going to get that unless I find out what happened. I…" He trailed off, his eyes focused straight ahead. "I won't let this, can't let this…"
Damn it. Guilt. Beckett was certain it was his fault. He moved to the foot of the bed to meet Beckett's gaze, staring directly into his eyes. "Doc, you've got to let it go."
Beckett snorted. "Easy for you to give advice you can't take yourself, John."
Now it was Sheppard's turn to blink at Carson's use of his first name. Well, the man had always seemed intuitive, even when he appeared clueless. Sheppard swore it was an act, a defense mechanism, especially when it came to operating Ancient technology. He'd seen Beckett operate all the Ancient devices in the infirmary with ease and would bet he had better control over the chair than he was willing to admit.
"Touché," he threw back.
"Besides, I'm the one who wanted to stay behind," Carson continued. "You did your best to try and convince me to do my research on Atlantis. Perhaps I should have listened." He reached up to pull at the oxygen cannula that was still in place under his nose.
John crossed back to the side of the bed to push Carson's hand down. "Doc, you should probably leave that alone."
Carson waved his hand away and pulled the tubing off his face. "Don't need it. My sats are fine. My staff is just being overly cautious."
"We are not being overly cautious, Dr. Beckett, and you are well aware of that fact." Sheppard almost jumped at Biro's voice. Damn, that woman could sneak up on you. He turned around to find her and Heightmeyer just behind him. Biro's arms were crossed.
"Carson," she continued, a warning tone to her voice and Beckett sighed, picking up the oxygen line.
"It amplifies the nausea," he explained.
"There is medication for that," Biro shot back.
"The compazine just makes me sleep," Beckett complained.
It was almost like watching a tennis match, Sheppard thought, and couldn't help feeling slightly amused. He'd had many conversations along the same lines with Beckett himself and it was interesting to see the tables turned.
"Sleep is just what you need anyway," Biro countered, her arms still crossed. "Though Dr. Heightmeyer tells me you had other plans?" Though she'd phased it as a question, she didn't give Carson a chance to answer. "No, Carson."
"Carol-"
She shook her head. "We have little to no data about Wraith mind-probing. This isn't just recovery from a craniotomy. Your vitals are stable, but that doesn't mean acceptable. Your BP and O2 sats are still lower than we'd like and a hypnotic state has the potential to depress them further."
"You've got me wired to monitor my vitals," Carson pointed out. "If something goes poorly, Kate can pull me out, I promise."
Biro looked unconvinced and shared a glance with Heightmeyer. The psychiatrist shrugged. Then the two of them looked at Sheppard, which he just found weird.
He just shrugged back in return. Biro's eyes narrowed for a moment, moving up towards the monitor next to Carson's head. Finally, she uncrossed her arms and reached for Beckett's chart.
"Fine, but I'm noting my reservations in writing. And the oxygen stays." She scribbled a note across the chart. "I hope this works for you."
"Me too," Beckett answered, his voice soft.
"I'll get my tape recorder," Heightmeyer said. "I assume you'll want to record this?"
Beckett nodded. Sheppard wondered if he should contact Weir. Elizabeth would not be pleased finding out about this later. He said as much to Beckett, who nodded again.
"She needn't come, though," he added. "Just you and Kate."
"Okay," he agreed and stepped away from the bed for a few minutes to contact Elizabeth via radio. She was surprised, much like he'd been, but agreed that anything Beckett might be able to remember from the experience would be worthwhile.
"Just make sure this doesn't hurt physically him, John," she told me. Emotionally was left unsaid, but he knew she didn't need to say it. He wasn't too sure he'd have any say in that, however. No one had any scope of the information Michael had gained, taken really, from Carson.
He ended his conversation with Elizabeth and headed back towards Carson's bed. A bedside table had been dragged in, and a recorder sat on top it. Heightmeyer was standing only a couple of feet from Carson on his right side. Biro was on the left, sitting in a chair, her eyes on the monitors as if she expected something to go wrong. To be honest, John had the same feeling.
He perched himself at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, waiting. Carson was turned to Heightmeyer. His eyes looked beyond tired, yet still as determined as they'd been previously.
"Ready?" Heightmeyer asked.
Beckett took a deep breath and nodded.
Part 8
SEASON/SPOILERS: Season 3. Tag for Misbegotten.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's finally complete! Not a doctor, but medical stuff is researched with some dramatic licensing, but nothing worse than what we'd see on the show, really.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or anything associated with it. I'm simply borrowing, but I promise to return all in one piece. Eventually.
Sheppard was surprised that Beckett had requested his presence in the infirmary. He'd thought that once Carson was truly awake enough to remember what had happened, that he'd be low on the doctor's want-to-see list. But the nurse who'd found him said that Beckett was rather insistent and that he'd also asked to see Heightmeyer.
Now Heightmeyer, that was a request he understood. But why the hell did Carson also want him there? The only thing he could think of was that perhaps the man was mad enough at him to want a mediator.
"Carson, this might not be a good idea in your current medical condition."
Heightmeyer's voice, and it didn't sound too pleased, Sheppard noted as he made his way towards Beckett's bed in the infirmary.
"My current medical condition is stable." Beckett. "I need to do this, Kate."
"Do what?" he asked, causing both doctors to turn and look at him. Carson's eyes, however, squinted slightly at the motion.
Headache, no doubt. Beckett did look a bit better since the last time he'd seen him, but that wasn't to say he looked at all healthy. If anything, the shadows under his eyes were more pronounced and he was still attached to as much equipment as he had been a few hours previous.
"Hello, Colonel Sheppard," Heightmeyer greeted with a sigh. "Dr. Beckett wants to undergo hypnosis."
"Hypnosis?" His brow furrowed. "Look, I'm not a doctor, but is that such a great idea right now? Doc, you had your brain cut into like ten hours ago."
"Hypnosis has been used to reduce pain after surgery, even during surgery, something I'm sure Dr. Heightmeyer is aware of," Beckett replied. He looked determined, though Sheppard hadn't a clue why. He knew the doc didn't remember much about his ordeal with Michael, except that he'd advocated for the lives of the transformed Wraith and that he'd been against the bomb.
"I am well aware of that, Carson. But you don't want to use it for that. Plus, hypnosis can profoundly alter sensory awareness and cognitive processing, involving the frontal cortex. Hypnotic susceptibility has been linked with the efficiency of the frontal attention system, which, while you're now stable and on the mend, you still had surgery in that area a short time ago. You may not even be a good subject."
"I'd be just fine, trust me," Carson shifted slightly in the bed. "I'm a good subject. In medical school, I was the person all the first-year students practiced on. Very easily hypnotized, my professor said." His eyes shifted downward. "Probably made it easier for Michael, actually."
Heightmeyer placed her hand on his arm. "That, I doubt. We know it is impossible for any of us to resist a Wraith mind probe." She nodded her head toward John. "Even Colonel Sheppard."
"Sure," he agreed, not caring to revisit that memory at the moment. He could sympathize with Beckett, definitely, though the only physical effect he'd had was a hell of a migraine. But that didn't really explain why he was here and what Beckett expected to achieve with this idea. "Um, but while I understand why Heightmeyer is here, why am I?"
Beckett's gaze remained fixed on his blanket. "I've been compromised," he said. He moved his arm from Heightmeyer's touch and his fingers started picking at the tape holding the IV line in his other arm in place.
Sheppard took a step past Heightmeyer to reach out and move Beckett's fingers away from the IV, thinking briefly how at any other time he'd have found the role reversal amusing. "You shouldn't pick at that, Doc," he said simply instead. "And what do you mean, compromised?"
"I let Michael-"
"Whoah, you didn't let Michael do anything. Last I checked you didn't exactly give him permission to mind probe you."
Carson looked up at him. "No, I didn't," he agreed. "But I should have been able to resist…he found out about the bomb, Colonel. The only way he could have known was through me. And if he found that out, who knows what else he discovered."
"Resist? Doc, his mind probing caused enough damage that your brain was bleeding!" Beckett's expression didn't change; it clearly wasn't good enough reasoning for him.
"He is right," Heightmeyer echoed. "Does Dr. Biro or Dr. Harper know what you want to do?"
"It's none of their concern," Carson answered.
"Which means no," John translated. "You wouldn't let me pull this crap, Doc. No reason you can, either."
Heightmeyer sighed again, rather deeply. John had a feeling it was something she did often. She shook her head. "We're not doing this, Carson, until I get medical clearance from someone with an objective view of your condition. And we know that isn't you." She patted his arm again. "I think Carol is on duty, I'll go find her."
Beckett opened his mouth in what John was certain would be a protest, but he simply closed it a moment later and nodded. Heightmeyer gave them both a small smile and left to seek out the pathologist.
For a minute or two, there was only silence between the two of them. Sheppard wondered if he could do something to ease some of the tension he felt in the air. But he admittedly sucked at things like this. It was why he was a pilot and not a diplomat. Still, he'd give it his best shot.
"I want to apologize, Carson." Beckett blinked, and John could see that the use of his first name did not go unnoticed. He and Carson were friends, no doubt, but he still called him Doc or Beckett more often than Carson. "Not for the call I made. It wasn't exactly successful, true, but it was the right one. But I should have never let you stay on that planet and-"
"It's not your fault, Colonel," Carson interrupted, his voice still low. John watched his gaze drop down again. "I mean, yes, it was your call and I didn't agree with it being the right one, but it was a call you may have not had to make if I hadn't let Michael…"
John shook his head. "Not this again, doc. Stop beating yourself up. You're not a soldier. You're a doctor. You may need to get out a little more, sure, but…" He paused. "You don't need to do this."
"Aye, I do," Carson insisted. "Even you can't deny that knowing exactly what Michael learned would be useful."
"Useful, maybe, but we don't even know if he made off the planet. McKay could have hit him."
"No life signs on that planet, Colonel. I remember learning that much before I collapsed. I doubt Rodney hit them all, given the fact he'd said it was a long shot to do so. Even if he did, chances are all them wouldn't have died immediately. No life signs," he repeated. He leaned back in the bed, pressing his head into the pillow, closing his eyes.
"Carson?" First name, again. He was worried. Even though Biro and Harper had both said Beckett would be okay, John wasn't sure he truly believed it.
Carson's eyes opened. "Just a wee headache," he said. "Normal, I assure you."
"You need something for it?"
"No, lad. Just piece of mind. And frankly, I'm not going to get that unless I find out what happened. I…" He trailed off, his eyes focused straight ahead. "I won't let this, can't let this…"
Damn it. Guilt. Beckett was certain it was his fault. He moved to the foot of the bed to meet Beckett's gaze, staring directly into his eyes. "Doc, you've got to let it go."
Beckett snorted. "Easy for you to give advice you can't take yourself, John."
Now it was Sheppard's turn to blink at Carson's use of his first name. Well, the man had always seemed intuitive, even when he appeared clueless. Sheppard swore it was an act, a defense mechanism, especially when it came to operating Ancient technology. He'd seen Beckett operate all the Ancient devices in the infirmary with ease and would bet he had better control over the chair than he was willing to admit.
"Touché," he threw back.
"Besides, I'm the one who wanted to stay behind," Carson continued. "You did your best to try and convince me to do my research on Atlantis. Perhaps I should have listened." He reached up to pull at the oxygen cannula that was still in place under his nose.
John crossed back to the side of the bed to push Carson's hand down. "Doc, you should probably leave that alone."
Carson waved his hand away and pulled the tubing off his face. "Don't need it. My sats are fine. My staff is just being overly cautious."
"We are not being overly cautious, Dr. Beckett, and you are well aware of that fact." Sheppard almost jumped at Biro's voice. Damn, that woman could sneak up on you. He turned around to find her and Heightmeyer just behind him. Biro's arms were crossed.
"Carson," she continued, a warning tone to her voice and Beckett sighed, picking up the oxygen line.
"It amplifies the nausea," he explained.
"There is medication for that," Biro shot back.
"The compazine just makes me sleep," Beckett complained.
It was almost like watching a tennis match, Sheppard thought, and couldn't help feeling slightly amused. He'd had many conversations along the same lines with Beckett himself and it was interesting to see the tables turned.
"Sleep is just what you need anyway," Biro countered, her arms still crossed. "Though Dr. Heightmeyer tells me you had other plans?" Though she'd phased it as a question, she didn't give Carson a chance to answer. "No, Carson."
"Carol-"
She shook her head. "We have little to no data about Wraith mind-probing. This isn't just recovery from a craniotomy. Your vitals are stable, but that doesn't mean acceptable. Your BP and O2 sats are still lower than we'd like and a hypnotic state has the potential to depress them further."
"You've got me wired to monitor my vitals," Carson pointed out. "If something goes poorly, Kate can pull me out, I promise."
Biro looked unconvinced and shared a glance with Heightmeyer. The psychiatrist shrugged. Then the two of them looked at Sheppard, which he just found weird.
He just shrugged back in return. Biro's eyes narrowed for a moment, moving up towards the monitor next to Carson's head. Finally, she uncrossed her arms and reached for Beckett's chart.
"Fine, but I'm noting my reservations in writing. And the oxygen stays." She scribbled a note across the chart. "I hope this works for you."
"Me too," Beckett answered, his voice soft.
"I'll get my tape recorder," Heightmeyer said. "I assume you'll want to record this?"
Beckett nodded. Sheppard wondered if he should contact Weir. Elizabeth would not be pleased finding out about this later. He said as much to Beckett, who nodded again.
"She needn't come, though," he added. "Just you and Kate."
"Okay," he agreed and stepped away from the bed for a few minutes to contact Elizabeth via radio. She was surprised, much like he'd been, but agreed that anything Beckett might be able to remember from the experience would be worthwhile.
"Just make sure this doesn't hurt physically him, John," she told me. Emotionally was left unsaid, but he knew she didn't need to say it. He wasn't too sure he'd have any say in that, however. No one had any scope of the information Michael had gained, taken really, from Carson.
He ended his conversation with Elizabeth and headed back towards Carson's bed. A bedside table had been dragged in, and a recorder sat on top it. Heightmeyer was standing only a couple of feet from Carson on his right side. Biro was on the left, sitting in a chair, her eyes on the monitors as if she expected something to go wrong. To be honest, John had the same feeling.
He perched himself at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, waiting. Carson was turned to Heightmeyer. His eyes looked beyond tired, yet still as determined as they'd been previously.
"Ready?" Heightmeyer asked.
Beckett took a deep breath and nodded.
Part 8