Storm’s Passing
#6 of The
by Setcheti
Och, does my head ever hurt.
Somethin’ hit me…all right, it was most likely someone that hit me. I didn’t see them, they must have snuck up behind me.
Remind me to leave the fightin’ to the soldiers from now on. I’m a doctor, not bloody Rambo. As Ford can well attest after today. Is that him I hear goin’ on about somethin’ over across the room? If my head didn’t hurt so much I’d lift it to look, and I’d give him a look of my own. He’d no call to be such a bastard about things earlier. There might be a barium enema someplace down in the infirmary with his name on it, for later when he’s not expectin’ me to get even.
Oh, laughin’ wasn’t such a good idea – I think my head just exploded right out through my stomach. Good thing there’s a wastepaper basket right here beside the console. Bloody concussion.
When did I get up and start movin’ again? I guess it doesn’t matter that much, and whoever’s helpin’ me stay upright is keepin’ their voice down. Voices, rather. Teyla and…Rodney? Not bloody Ford, good – I’ve heard enough from him for the time bein’. And I seem to remember Sheppard sayin’ somethin’ about goin’ to fetch someone back from Menara. I might have heard him wrong, though; I can still hear the storm goin’ on, and we can’t be bringin’ everyone back to the city until we’re sure it’s over. Not to mention that we don’t know how many soldiers might be waitin’ on the other side of the Gate. It’d be too dangerous to just stroll through hopin’ for the best.
It was dangerous enough when we flew back over ourselves from the mainland, even though part of that time we were in the eye of the storm. Didn’t really have a choice in that, though, it was an emergency. I don’t think we’ve got an emergency goin’ on right now…oh. Oh yes, layin’ down feels good, very good. I think my head would feel much better if I could just get some sleep. My stomach too, as convenient as that basket was I don’t want to be visitin’ it again just now, even if the floor was nice and cool.
Oh wait, isn’t there some reason I’m not supposed to be goin’ to sleep just now….?
Ouch. Bright light, and someone messin’ with my eyes…I try to move away and they stop me. Oh, right, concussion. So this is why people are always givin’ me that dirty look when I try to check their pupilary response. It’s bloody well annoyin’, and it hurts. I’ll have to remember that later. For now, I blink a little so I can see who’s here. There’s the infirmary ceilin’…oh, and here’s one of my people. “Melissa?”
She’s lookin’ a bit worried. “Dr. Beckett, do you know where you are?”
“The infirmary.” Concussion, right. I know this drill. “How long has the storm been over? Is everyone back already?”
“It isn’t, but they say it’s dying down. And nobody’s back yet but me, they’re still trying to sort out the situation over there.” She’s checkin’ my pulse now. “You’ve got a concussion, I’m going to have to keep waking you up until I’m sure you’re all right. Do you want something to drink before you go back to sleep?”
My stomach says that isn’t too good of an idea, so I just close my eyes. Sleep, yes, that’s what I want. But if the storm isn’t over and there’s a mess to deal with on Menara, how did Melissa get here?
When I wake up all the way, finally, I realize I’ve got an IV stuck in my arm and that there are a lot more people around. Storm must be over, then, and so must everythin’ else. I don’t see Melissa, but Jonathan comes over and runs me through the drill yet again. It’s bloody well annoyin’ is what it is – as was bein’ woken up every hour or two for who knows how long. Maybe the Ancients had some better way of watchin’ a concussion; I’ll have to ask Rodney to keep his eyes open for anythin’ that looks like medical equipment, maybe we’ll get lucky. “Jonathan, have you seen Dr. McKay?” I ask.
He moves to one side and points, and wouldn’t you know it there’s the man himself. “Some of our equipment is still acting up because of the power surge that ran through the city,” he tells me. “That’s the last one in here that’s not working.”
I squint, seein’ that the panel Rodney’s swearin’ over isn’t lit up – and that it’s the one that controls one of the doors, which looks to be stuck half open. But I also see somethin’ else. “What’s that on his arm?”
Jonathan shrugs. “I don’t know, he had that bandage on when we all got back. He must have put it there himself.”
I frown at him. “I’d bloody well hope he did that himself, seein’ how it’s wrapped over his sleeve,” I snap – and then wince a bit. Gettin’ angry on the tail end of a concussion isn’t the best idea, apparently. “All of you know better than that. Did anyone ask him about it?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think so.” He’s lookin’ a little bit worried now, and not about me; I’m not all too forgivin’ of carelessness around my infirmary – or my lab either, for that matter. “Everyone probably thought someone else did it.”
“Get him over here, the bloody door can wait.” I push myself up just a bit against the pillows I’ve got and try to get control of the poundin’ in my head. At least it’s not as bad as I remember it bein’ before, and if I squint just a bit the lights aren’t so much too bright.
Rodney comes runnin’ over, lookin’ worried half to death. “
He looks so worried – and so glad to see me – that I almost don’t want to tear into him. Almost. “What did you do to your arm?”
“Huh?” He actually has to look down at it to remember. “Oh, that. It’s okay, I put alcohol on it before I wrapped it up.”
Look at him, he’s just as pleased with himself as if he’d done somethin’ right. I sigh. Bloody fool probably thinks he did. And I’ve got no way of knowin’ how long my people have been back, might not have been so long that someone would have had a chance to corner him about it. “Jonathan, go get what’s needed for this,” I say, and he darts off. I take hold of Rodney’s hand to hold his arm still while I start unwrappin’ the bandage, notin’ that his fingers flex in mine and that they’re warm but not hot or swollen. Hopefully it’s nothin’ too bad…but then the bandage comes off and I see the size of the gash in his sleeve and how much blood is dried on the material – and on the skin underneath. I give him a dirty look. “Get that jacket off now. And why didn’t you ask someone to help you with this?”
He blinks at me. “I…I just didn’t think about it. You were hurt, and the lightning strike knocked a lot of systems offline. I’ve been running from place to place…and I did wrap it up so it wouldn’t keep bleeding.”
“Yes, that was good thinkin’ – but you don’t wrap things over your clothes unless you don’t have a choice.” I raise an eyebrow at him and try to ignore the fact that it hurts to do it. “Yes, you did have a choice; you could have asked one of my people to do it.”
He shakes his head. “I, um…the storm didn’t break for quite a while, and it was only about an hour ago that we could start getting everyone back into the city. So they’ve only been back for a little while, and we’ve been trying to get everything working…”
“So why didn’t you ask Melissa?” Then I remember somethin’. “How exactly did she get back here, anyway? She was here before everyone else, and I remember her sayin’ the storm was still goin’ on and no one else was back.”
“Um, John went over to Menara with a jumper and brought her back. It was…too important to wait, we needed her.” Now he looks really uncomfortable, and he shrugs out of his jacket so he won’t have to look at me. “I’ll remember to put the bandage under my clothes next time.”
I reach for him again, and this time I grab his wrist instead of his hand and use the old bandages to wipe off the blood that’s startin’ to well up again. It’s a deep, messy hole he has in his arm, one that starts shallow and gouges down…my god, I know what this is. “A knife did this, Rodney!”
“Commander Kolya, he was…trying to get me to talk.” This time the eyebrow goes up easier, and he gives in to it again. “I held out as long as I could, but I just…couldn’t hold out very long.”
Bloody hell. And there’s bruisin’ all around the cut, damage that didn’t come from a knife too; looks like the sadistic bastard made sure Rodney kept talkin’, or maybe that was shuttin’ him back up once he’d talked enough. I think I can even see some light bruisin’ on his face. Och, I wonder if Sheppard knows about what went on? Most likely not, given how Rodney’s actin’ right now. And why didn’t Weir help the man with his arm? She bein’ held hostage with him, she had to have known he was hurt – not to mention how he got that way. I sigh; looks like I’ve got some work to do once this bloody concussion has run its course. “I’m glad you couldn’t, I’m tryin’ not to imagine how much worse this could have been,” is what I tell him, keepin’ my eyes on the cut and not on his face to spare him any more embarrassment. “You’re lucky the cut didn’t go deeper than it did. It’s still goin’ to need a stitch or two, though, if you want it to heal up right.” I scoot over just a bit and tug on the wrist I’m holdin’ to make him sit down on the side of the bed. His pulse is slowin’ down now, good. “Once Jonathan takes care of it, you can be on about fixin’ things again. And then I can go back to sleep.”
He makes a face. “You look like you need to.”
And then he shivers, and I realize that he’s not lookin’ any too good himself and that he’s sittin’ just a bit hunched over like his stomach hurts him. But before I can ask him what else went on, Jonathan is back and we’re busy with takin’ care of the knife wound and gettin’ it wrapped up properly. Rodney surprises me, though, and stays where he is when Jonathan finishes and goes off again. “Somethin’ you want to talk about?” I ask him, keepin’ my voice low. My hand is still on his wrist, and I feel his pulse rate go up again. Damn. “Is somethin’ wrong, Rodney?”
Like I don’t already know somethin’ is, but sometimes it’s better to ask, to give him a choice in answerin’. He makes that face again. “I…can I ask a favor of you, Carson?”
“Of course.” I’m gettin’ a bad feelin’ now, because he wouldn’t be askin’ any kind of a favor of me right at this moment if he thought he could twist himself up to do it another time. “What do you need?”
Rodney takes a deep breath and looks around the room before lookin’ down at me, and I don’t like what I see in those blue eyes when they get here. “If something happens to me…could I get you to take care of something for me?”
I nod immediately and tell him of course, but inside I can feel my blood pressure goin’ up and the poundin’ in my head starts to get a little louder. Not because of Rodney, oh no. The only thought runnin’ through my mind right now is, Oh bloody hell, she’s done it again…