Fic: The Human Body V: Killing Off a Few Liver Cells
Title: The Human Body V: Killing Off a Few Liver Cells
Author: smallwaldo
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/Beckett
Words: 4459
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: “You mean you’ve got something that’ll let you get completely drunk, with no side-effects?" Rodney asked, "Okay, you know what? Screw the grain and the meat. We need to be negotiating for some of this stuff.” Carson has a run in with some alien juice.
Notes: Post-"Duet" story. Makes a brief reference to events in the second story, HB II: Put Your Head on My Shoulder. This is now HB:V and HB: Do We Need a Rabbit? becomes HB VI.
The Human Body V: Killing Off a Few Liver Cells
by: Waldo.
John strolled into the infirmary, hands in his pocket, his most charming smile plastered on his face.
Carson took one look at him and tried to find a place to hide. That look rarely ended up with anything less than trouble for them both.
“Hi, Carson.”
“Hello, Colonel,” he returned, keeping things professional between them. He was well aware that he was much more able to tell Colonel Sheppard ‘no’ than he was John.
John’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s with that?” John asked him.
Carson crossed his arms across his chest. “Don’t think I haven’t seen that look enough times to know to avoid it.”
John tried to look all affronted, but ended up smiling again. “Hey, this is me asking first. I promised no more volunteering you to go off-world without asking you first. So I’m asking.”
“What sort of nonsense have you and Rodney gotten into now?”
“No, it’s not like that. We’re working on a trade agreement with the kindly folks on P83-XR2 and one of the things they look like they could use is some medical help. They have these kids they call ‘blue children’. Therrassa said that most of them die before they reach adulthood and from what I saw everyone’s real careful to see that these kids don’t get up and run around too much. I think they’re asthmatic. But you’d know better than I would.”
Carson sighed. John knew damn well that his dislike for leaving Atlantis would be trumped by kids who needed care. Especially when it sounded like something as simple as managing asthma. “When are you going back?” he asked as he grabbed a box from a nearby shelf and started putting various medicines and pieces of equipment into it.
“Rodney and Teyla are still there. Ronon and I came back to get you.” John took the box and followed Carson around the infirmary, holding it while Carson moved from shelf to shelf collecting what he needed.
“What, if you being charming didn’t work, you were going to send Ronon in to ‘convince me’?” He regretted the joke when he saw the stricken look on John’s face, but he was still trying to figure Mr. Dex out.
“You’re kidding, right? You don’t think I’d really do that, do you?”
“No,” Carson said patting him on the shoulder. “You might sic Elizabeth on me though.”
John shrugged. “That I might do. Besides, Ronon likes you. He’d probably beat the crap out of me if I ever suggested it.”
Carson thought about that and shrugged. The Runner had been awfully protective of him ever since Carson had gotten the transmitter out of his back. “That he might.” Once the case was filled, Carson took it back, closed it and handed it back to John. “Let me get my staff up to speed and let them know I’ll be gone for a bit. I’ll meet you in the control room in twenty minutes.”
~~~***~~~***~~~
When word got around that a healer from the City of the Ancestors had arrived, the parents of ‘blue children’ from the three towns closest to the Stargate began bringing their children to be seen.
Carson ran some blood tests and collected other samples to see if there wasn’t a way to reduce the number of children with the more serious, and ultimately fatal condition - cystic fibrosis. Right away he’d noticed some slight differences in the blood of these villagers and standard Earth-human blood. He wasn’t sure what the difference meant in the long run, but he would be more successful in finding out using the larger, more complicated technology in Atlantis.
As John had suspected, many of them were asthmatic. But it also seemed that there was a high population of villagers who carried the gene for cystic fibrosis. More than one mother had turned away in tears when told that her child’s condition couldn’t be managed with simple medicine and minor life-style changes. Carson felt for them. He’d had a number of cystic fibrosis patients at the genetics clinic he’d worked at before going to Antarctica. Even on a world as technologically advanced as Earth with medicines and therapies and transplants, CF patients rarely saw thirty. On this world they rarely saw thirteen, and Carson wasn’t equipped to deal with such a complicated disease here.
The rough cases were balanced out by the larger number of patients who responded well to albuterol and other easily obtained asthma medications. He’d sent no less than forty kids off with directions to go play like the other kids. Directions they’d never been able to follow until that day.
It was late in the evening when he sat with the village healer going over how to use a peak flow meter and how to administer medications. He made a note to make sure they could contact him should any of the children have an acute attack that would require a nebulizer. Unfortunately unless they also provided these people with an electrical generator, leaving them a nebulizer wasn’t really a choice.
As they spoke in the healing house, gathered around the fire, they heard children playing outside. From his place under the window, Carson could hear a few girls laughing and whispering. As he leaned over and started to explain how to chart each child’s lung capacity, there was a tentative knock on the door. Marip called for them to enter.
Four girls, all between ten and twelve years old stumbled in, pushing each other, even as they tried to hold themselves back. Finally, the one who seemed to be the oldest, one Carson remembered treating that afternoon, stepped forward, “We made sweet cakes and brought ajra juice. We wanted to say thank you. We made these ourselves.” She looked back and forth between Carson and their own healer and giggled. That started the other girls giggling.
“That was very kind, girls,” Marip said, beckoning them forward.
When they got closer, Carson could see that all four girls were girls he’d treated. “Well, the group of you look much better than you did this morning. But don’t over do it,” he cautioned. “It’s got to be getting close to bed time for girls your age, doesn’t it?”
Three of the girls turned to the youngest who just shrugged. “I guess we should take Eldee home and put her in bed,” the oldest conceded. She handed Carson a basket covered with a cloth and one of her friends handed him a clay jug of juice roughly the size of a gallon of milk. Errand achieved, the girls ran back out, giggling.
Carson pulled back the corner of the cloth and saw what looked to be corn muffins. “Well, wasn’t that nice of the lasses?”
Ronon had brought Carson some MRE chicken stuff while Carson finished up with the last few patients. Carson had tasted it politely since Ronon had gone to all the trouble, but as soon as he’d left to go play with the older boys who’d asked Ronon to teach them a Satedan version of football, Carson had pushed the nasty mess aside.
So he wasn’t surprised at all when his stomach rumbled a bit at the sight of fresh muffins. Marip laughed and brought in plates and mugs from the antiroom. She set out the plates on the low table, carefully stacking Carson’s notes to one side, and then pouring them both a glass of juice.
They spent another hour and half going over procedures and dosages and diagnostics while they ate the muffins and drank almost the whole jug of juice.
By the time the fire was starting to bank and all sounds of children playing had ceased, Carson realized that he was absolutely exhausted. When he stood, he found himself light-headed and dizzy. Marip eyed him with concern for a moment before her expression turned to one of mortified amusement. “Oh, no.” She raised a hand to her face to cover her smile.
“Wha’? Wha’s wrong?” Carson was sure he wasn’t having that much trouble enunciating a minute ago.
“I think the girls pressed the ajra juice themselves too. And I think they may have chosen ajra that weren’t… quite ripe.”
Carson took comfort from the fact that whatever the result of unripe ajra juice, it apparently was more amusing than fatal. But he was getting kind of curious. And even more dizzy. “Is that why I feel so light-headed?” he asked her.
She nodded. “It’ll pass by morning,” she promised. “Perhaps I should see you to the rooming house. Your companions should have returned from the leadership house by now.”
Carson nodded, and then regretted it when the world didn’t seem to stop moving when he did. “Aye, that might be a good idea.”
~~~***~~~***~~~
They had been given the finest rooms in the rooming house. The place reminded John of an upscale inn from the American colonial period. Bright sitting rooms, bedrooms with fancy bedcovers and hand-worked wooden furniture were lit by oil lamps and wall sconces. When they’d first arrived, there had been four of them and they’d each been given a room. With the arrival of the families from nearby villages to see Carson, the rest of the rooms had filled quickly.
John and his team were sitting in a private parlor, drinking tea and chatting - teasing Rodney mostly about how much he’d eaten at the banquet - when Carson was led in by Marip.
John saw the way he staggered and jumped up to catch him if he actually lost balance. He felt Ronon standing right behind him, also wary.
“Carson?” he asked, alarmed.
Marip smiled. “He will be well in the morning. I’m afraid he had rather a lot of unripe ajra juice. It was an accident.” She looked sincerely apologetic, but still amused at Carson trying to stand still, but swaying like a tree in a hurricane.
John looked hard at Carson. He was flushed and unbalanced, and there was a completely inexplicable grin on his face.
Rodney said it before John had to. “Oh my god! He’s drunk off his ass!”
Carson just looked up at John who now had him by both shoulders to keep him from going overboard. “Oh. Hullo.”
John laughed at the completely innocent look on his face. “Hello to you too. How do you feel?”
“Oh, fine. Fine,” Carson said as he patted John’s shoulder.
John glanced up at Marip, remembering that she was the healer for this town, “This isn’t going to do anything to him, is it?”
“Nothing permanent,” she reassured him. “He may seem… uncharacteristically complacent for a while. But he should fall asleep soon. He will be himself in the morning.”
Rodney wasn’t even trying to hide his amusement at Carson’s predicament. “With a monster-sized hangover, I’d imagine.”
Marip looked at him oddly. “Hang over?” she asked.
John cut Rodney off, while the situation was mildly amusing, they still needed to remember that they were acting as diplomats. Rodney was not diplomatic. Ever. “A hangover is that sick, nasty feeling you have the morning after you drink too much.”
Marip seemed to think about that for a moment. “I have heard the men of the village describe such things resulting from drinks they have encountered on other worlds while trading. I assure you, ajra juice does not produce such ill effects.”
“Oh, well, that’s good.” He looked down at Carson, “At least we won’t be tiptoeing around you tomorrow and you won’t feel the need to resort to threatening us with large pointy objects and/or ‘drop your pants and cough.’”
Carson laughed, swaying forward so that his head hit John’s shoulder. And then he just stayed there. John raised an eyebrow at the rest of the group in a ‘Well, what’re ya gonna do?’ expression.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Rodney hollered, causing everyone to look up at him. “You mean you’ve got something that’ll let you get completely drunk, with no side-effects?” He waved his hands around as he was wont to do when thinking. “Okay, you know what?” he seemed to be addressing Teyla and Sheppard both, even though he was now wandering in a small circle and flapping. “Screw the grain and the meat. We need to be negotiating for some of this stuff.”
Carson started laughing silently; John could feel him shake with it. He glanced down as Carson pulled his head back up. “Watch this,” Carson whispered.
“What?” John asked, just as quietly.
“Sorry, Rodney. It’s made of citrus. Something like a blood orange I think.”
Rodney stopped instantly. “No.” His eyes got huge and he looked like someone had just sent a letter from home informing him that his cat had died. “No. No no no nonono. That… that’s not fair!”
Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon burst out laughing. Carson had dropped his head on John’s shoulder again, and could be seen shaking with laughter. John wasn’t sure if Carson was just saying that to wind Rodney up or if it was true. If it was a joke, it was a damn good one, he had to give him credit for that. John wondered idly if it was payback for the kiss. Though he had to think that Carson knew that that wasn’t really Rodney at all. Either way, he wished for a camera to get a picture of McKay’s face. John nodded to Marip. “Thank you for escorting him back. We’ll take care of him from here.”
She nodded, putting a hand on Carson’s shoulder in apology before she left. He patted her hand awkwardly, “It’s alright, love. I’ll be fine in the morning, right?”
She nodded, “Of course. I will see you tomorrow after early meal to finish going over the materials you are gifting us with.”
“Alright then,” Carson agreed.
Marip smiled at everyone one last time and left.
When the parlor door closed behind her, John pushed Carson back enough to look him in the eyes. He raised an eyebrow. “Juice, Carson?”
“I didn’t know,” he replied sheepishly, giggling. I’ll have to get ahold of some to study. Most fruits we know of ferment as they get older, these apparently work in reverse… and chemically… well that’s very interesting.”
John laughed at the fact that Carson couldn’t really put together a full explanation at the moment. “You need to go to bed.”
Carson spun around in a small circle, looking over the sitting room. “Where?”
Rodney spoke up, “Uh, I think they said the hotel is full - ‘no room at the inn’ as it were. Everyone from like fifty miles around came in to see him.”
Adopting a terribly put-upon look John sighed. “He can crash with me. Someone needs to keep an eye on him anyway, make sure that just because these people don’t get sick or hungover that he won’t.”
Carson was laughing at John’s self-sacrificing attitude. They’d found no need to tell anyone that they’d spent a few nights together recently - doing nothing but sleeping and a little making out - and even drunk, Carson wasn’t going to be the first to let it slip. But he was pretty sure that John’s act was just that - an act for his team. His suspicions were confirmed when he felt John squeeze the back of his neck and push him against his chest. “Shut up,” John whispered through a tight grin. That just made Carson laugh even harder.
“I’ll help you get him down the hall,” Ronon volunteered.
John nodded, “Thanks.”
As she turned to leave Teyla reminded them all, “Minister Therressa’s aides will be coming to awaken us for the Dawn Embracement.”
Rodney headed out for his room, “First they get you drunk then they wake you at the crack of dawn to celebrate a very common planetary phenomena - the sunrise. We’re sure we want to deal with these people?”
Ronon slapped him upside the head as he passed.
Keeping an arm around Carson’s shoulders, John steered him down to the last room in the hall. As the team leader, John had been given a room that was just slightly larger than the others. The bed would be plenty big for the two of them and the corner positioning of the room allowed for a very nice cross-breeze when both windows were open.
John let Ronon steer Carson to the bed as he fumbled with the oil lamp near the door. “Okay, these things suck. The rest of the universe needs to invent electricity.” He could hear Carson giggle from where he’d slumped on the bed. “You want to do this?” he asked caustically, but with a smile no one could see in the dark.
Carson sighed and when John turned, he could see Carson trying to get back up, but Ronon pushed him back down gently. “I’ll get it. You stay here.”
Carson shrugged against the quilt. “Alright then.”
John was still fiddling with the wick when Ronon shoved him out of the way and made quick work of lighting the lamp near the door before moving to light the larger one on the bedside table.
John was tugging Carson back into a sitting position to try and get him out of his gray jacket when Ronon sat in the armchair near the window and said, “McKay may have had a point, Sheppard.”
“Yeah, on the top of his head,” John snickered.
Carson laughed and then said, “Now, now that’s not very nice.”
“Then why are you laughing?” John asked as he finally freed Carson’s left arm.
“I didnae say it was nae funny, just that it was nae nice,” Carson said trying to enunciate, but only making his accent thicker.
John swatted his head. “What point did McKay possibly have, Ronon?” John asked, hoping to derail Carson.
“Maybe we should be negotiating for some of that fruit juice,” Ronon told him.
John had finally gotten Carson free of his jacket and Carson had fallen back on the bed, his legs hanging over the edge, feet on the floor. “I’m not sure how much Elizabeth would appreciate that. I don’t think she needs her staff getting accidentally drunk at breakfast some morning.”
“There is something to be said for letting go of your inhibitions on occasion. It can be good for you,” Ronon put in.
“Yes, because that’s exactly what we need,” Carson opined from the bed. “Rodney McKay being even less afraid to say what he really thinks. We’d all be doomed.”
John had moved to the floor to start untying Carson’s boots. “I thought Rodney couldn’t have any because it was citrus based,” John asked, not because he really thought they should be trading for booze, but because trying to have a conversation with Carson in the state was in, quite frankly, amused him.
“Ah, right. Though I’d imagine he’d want me to run a hundred and one tests to be sure that he really would be allergic to it. Can you imagine Rodney if his inhibitions were any lower than they normally are? He can’t shut it now.” Carson sat up on his elbows as he spoke, clearly fascinated by the idea.
“He’d probably be as much fun as you are,” John said resisting the urge to tickle Carson’s feet. “Though it might not be safe for Dr. Zelenka.”
Ronon sat forward in his chair. “Why would Dr. McKay wish to harm Dr. Zelenka?
“Oh, not ‘not safe’ in that sense. I think Rodney has a crush on him. And if he got liquored up enough, he’d probably end up telling him. And, knowing Rodney’s amazing sense of timing, half of Atlantis in the process."
“Crush?” Ronon asked, confused by the term.
Carson fell back on the bed. “Rodney’s in love with him.”
John moved to sit on the bed next to Carson. “You know that, or you’re just clarifying for Ronon what it means to have a crush on someone.”
Carson just shrugged and made a little ‘hm’ noise.
John shook his head at him. “Nevermind, I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Do you need any more help with him?” Ronon asked John.
“Nah, I think we’re good. I just need to get him to turn around and get under the covers. Hopefully he’ll pass out shortly after that.”
Ronon nodded. “Dr. Beckett, do you need anything else before you fall asleep?”
Carson let his head roll to the side so he could see Ronon - somewhat sideways and blurry - before answering, “Oh, no, son. I’m fine. Thank you very much.”
Ronon looked up at Sheppard, clearly uncertain as to why Beckett was referring to him as his child, but Sheppard just shook his head in a ‘don’t ask’ kind of way and Ronon let himself out.
John stretched out on the bed where he could run his fingers through Carson’s hair. “You’re pretty plotzed, you know that?”
Carson nodded. “You noticed that, did you?”
“Kind of hard to miss.”
“Sorry.”
John chuckled and messed up Carson’s hair. “So far, no harm no foul. And a few laughs. So why don’t you get turned around and into the bed. Marip says you’ll be better in the morning.”
Carson sighed the sigh of the much put-upon but pulled himself up and scooted around until he could slide his feet under the quilt and blanket. “You’re staying, right?” he asked John, looking very earnest.
“Of course I’m staying - you’re in my bed. Let me get these damn lights,” John said as he, again, fought with the lamps, “and I’ll be right there.” He was grateful for the darkness that descended, because it let him smile at how adorable Carson was when drunk without anyone knowing it.
John shucked his own boots and jacket, made sure the safety was on on his nine mil and set it on the table on his side of the bed. He crawled in next to Carson, propping his head up on his hand. “You comfortable?”
Carson turned to face John. “Aye. You?”
John ran his hand up and down Carson’s bicep. “I’m fine. You should really go to sleep.”
Carson leaned in, his face mere centimeters from John’s.
John laughed. They shouldn’t. They so shouldn’t, but Carson was being so cute. John hooked his arm around Carson’s hips, tugging him a little closer and gently kissed him good night.
Carson responded to John’s chaste kiss enthusiastically. John thought about pulling away and telling Carson to behave, but he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting his feelings while he was this vulnerable. And besides, a little kissing never hurt anyone. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before. He smiled a little, and gave himself over to Carson’s more enthusiastic kisses.
After a few minutes, though, he shot up, “Whoa, what’re ya doin’ there?” he asked in a lazy drawl as he pulled Carson’s hand away from his own zipper.
“I’d think I’d not have to spell it out for you.” Carson answered, and John couldn’t tell if he was trying to be coy or if he was actually insulted.
“Carson, this is not a good idea,” John said clearly, still holding the hand near his hip.
Even in the very dim light, John could see Carson’s face fall, and from where he was he could feel the heat rise in his face. “I’m sorry. I … I must have misunderstood.” Carson shuffled over to his side, his back to John.
Sheppard fell against the sheets and sighed. “Yeah, you did… but not like you think.” He rolled over and curled up against Carson’s back. “It’s not that I don’t want to go there with you. But tonight is the absolute worst night for something like this.” He began gently stroking Carson’s hair. “You understand that, right?”
Carson just shrugged, but at least he wasn’t doing that petty, petulant pulling away thing so many other people John had dated tended to do if he had to postpone things. He kissed the back of Carson’s head. “It’s not like we weren’t heading that - aren’t heading that way - anyway, but number one, you’re drunk. I’d really like to be absolutely sure you don’t think I’m taking advantage of you and number two, we’re on a mission. And, yes, I’m going to sleep, but that doesn’t mean I’m off duty. You get that, right?”
Carson relaxed under John’s gently soothing hands. “I can’t believe I did that. That was incredibly stupid.”
John kissed the back of his head. “Do that again at home and I promise you there will be a very different outcome. But not here and not now, okay?”
Apropos to nothing Carson said, “Laura Cadman kissed me.”
Deciding that at least the immediate issue of where Carson’s hands belonged had been taken care of, John squared them away so that they were more comfortable. Because apparently now they were going to talk. “Again?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh, no… I mean, it was Rodney’s body, but not… no wonder Rodney wants to get drunk,” Carson’s brain leapfrogged through his thoughts.
John wasn’t sure if he was being thick or if he really didn’t understand what Carson was saying. “I didn’t need to be drunk to kiss you.”
He could sense Carson’s smile. “No, I just meant the whole ordeal. Having another person - one who’s hell bent on playing yenta for you no less - literally shoved in your head. That had to be quite difficult. I would have spent the entire time terrified that she was getting into my deepest, darkest secrets.”
“Well, Rodney would have gotten into a few of hers too. So my guess is that they would have reached some kind of truce on that one early on. Besides, Cadman’s a good kid. She really wouldn’t have made it any harder on Rodney than she had to.” As Carson relaxed John was able to tug on his shoulder until Carson rolled over to face him again. “So what was it like kissing him… her… him… whoever?”
“Mortifying,” Carson answered at once. “And not because it was Rodney… well, alright to a degree because it was Rodney, but mostly because everyone was standing there - you were standing there - watching. I mean, seriously, I’m glad the poor girl didn’t die with that as her last kiss. That would have been a real waste.”
John laughed and pulled Carson in, hugging him tight. “You crack me up,” John told him, placing a soft kiss on Carson’s forehead. He let Carson pull back enough to tip his head up.
John took the hint. He gave him one more kiss good night before they settled down to sleep. Carson rolled back onto his side, but this time he snuggled his back against John’s front, and John let one arm drape over Carson’s waist as they drifted off together under an alien moon.