Androcles

Author: nebbyjen

Archive: Jumper Bay, FF, SGAHC

Category: H/C

Summary: Gee, missing scene from Runner? LOL! Carson has Ronon in the infirmary repairing his earlier handiwork. He learns a little more about the newest member to Atlantis.

Rated: K (nothing bad in this one)

Season/Spoiler: Season 2/ slight spoiler for Runner

Author's Note: My first Season 2 fic…sniff! A little challenge/plot bunny handed over by Emergencyfan to spend my Sunday afternoon tinkering on. Again, I still have absolutely nothing to do with the show and write because it's fun. Okay? Okay!

oOo

Carson watched the armed guard station himself casually, albeit attentively, beside the infirmary doorway once Ronon Dex, Atlantis' latest refugee extraordinaire, took a seat on one of the diagnostic tables. If ever the Scot had seen someone ready to run from his establishment, this new fellow fit the bill perfectly.

Dark eyes stared challengingly back at him as he stepped forward and held out his hand while gesturing to Ronon's vest, "I need you to take that off, lad, so that I can see what damage you may have done to your stitches." When Dex didn't move, he tried a different tactic and tapped his stethoscope bell in the palm of his hand while edging back to the bed behind him. Feeling his hip bump into the flat surface, he pushed himself up with a short hop and stared back.

Ronon shifted ever so slightly, his grip on the mattress easing so that Carson could see color reappear in the man's whitened knuckles.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

The stiff jaw twitched and for the first time, Dex actually took a deep breath, only to exhale slowly and relax minutely. "You don't sound like the rest."

"Aye. I'm from Scotland."

The dark eyes narrowed suspiciously, "I thought you were from Earth."

"Oh, aye, I mean, yes, I'm from Earth. Scotland is a country…on Earth. Colonel Sheppard is American, uh, Dr. McKay is from Canada, and," he pointed to the guard by the door, "I believe Sgt. Lukinov is from Russia." The officer tipped the edge of his cap and nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't relax his grip on the P-90 attached to his chest.

Ronon shifted again, this time a small wince appeared in the corner of his eyes that he hid quickly, but Carson didn't miss. "How many of you are there?" he asked the Scot.

"Countries or people? Here on Atlantis or on Earth?"

"Here," Ronon grunted, his eyes tracking over strange equipment displayed throughout the room.

"I'm sorry, lad, but at the moment I'm not at liberty to share that with you."

Dex nodded in understanding. He glanced back at the doctor and found the man patiently sitting on the edge of the opposite bed watching him. The throbbing between his shoulder blades had returned with a vengeance, and he knew the man only wanted to help him, but he wasn't ready to let his guard down just yet. Shifting on his hip slightly to ease his discomfort, he didn't miss the blue eyes tracking his every move. "Two other doctors tried to remove the signal before you," he said, memories of the experiences still painfully fresh.

The doctor actually looked saddened at that as he nodded. "Aye, I saw some of their butchery on your back. You're a very fortunate man to be walkin' at all. And then for you to be tryin' to cut it out yourself," Carson whispered in disbelief. "Are you daft? You could have done more damage than you did."

"I did what I had to do to survive."

Silence permeated the room as all three men pondered that statement. When the doors unexpectedly hissed open behind the Sergeant, they each turned to stare in disbelief at Sheppard hustling into the room with an orange suited figure draped over his shoulder in a sloppy fireman's carry.

"Care to give me a hand, Doc. Rodney passed out cold in the jumper bay."

Carson hopped off the bed and pointed to where he'd been sitting. "Why's the darned fool still in this darned suit?" Not waiting for an answer, he began to strip off the heavy apparatus, dropping sweat soaked pieces to the floor in disgust. Tugging Rodney up to a seated position, he gestured for Sheppard to hold him while he peeled the suit down off the unconscious man's chest before lying him back down. Rid of the rubbery material, he shook his head in dismay at how soaked the scientist's clothes had become, but when he pinched the man's skin, the grayish color didn't change.

"He's dehydrated," he informed the watching eyes while walking over to a cupboard and grabbing several items. Returning to the bedside, he snapped a line on Rodney's arm in an attempt to raise a vein. After several tries he was successful and attached the saline drip before adjusting the flow the replace the lost fluids. "Bloody fool," he muttered. "So worried about gettin' a little sunburn, he actually cooked himself inside out."

Sheppard shifted closer to the bed, his concern evident on his face. "But he'll be okay, right?"

"Aye lad, but he's not gonna be happy when he comes to. And his headache is gonna rival the one he'll give me."

Sheppard grinned in relief, slapping Beckett on the back. "Well, that's good news."

"For you maybe," Carson mumbled under his breath.

"Doctor Beckett?" Ronon interrupted from behind them.

Both men turned to look at their guest, their concern over Rodney momentarily taking precedence over the silent figure seated on the bed.

"I'm sorry Ronon, did you need something?"

The stranger looked to McKay, and then Sheppard, and then Beckett. There was no deceit or trickery that he could ascertain. Swallowing back his pride, he winced, "Perhaps you could take a look at my back."

Sheppard glanced to Beckett, his eyebrow raised in surprise. "You haven't…?" he started to ask, pointing to Ronon and then to the Scot's stethoscope.

"No. We were gettin' to know one another first."

"He doesn't need a date."

"Colonel, don't you need to be seeing Dr. Weir?" Beckett snapped, his patience quickly fading.

"No, she can wait a little bit. I told her I was bringing Rodney down, so she said to come meet her when you were done." He grinned at the Scot before taking up a chair beside his silent friend.

Carson tugged his smock lapels in irritation before turning back to the cupboard for more supplies. Returning with a tray covered in a variety of painful looking instruments, he set it down beside Ronon and smiled. "Don't worry, lad," he whispered, "these aren't for you." Picking up a large needle and a vial of clear liquid, he turned around and slowly drew the fluid into the syringe, shooting a small amount across the floor for effect. Advancing towards the wide eyed Colonel; he casually waved the needle in the air. "Before I take care of Mr. Dex, perhaps I should give you your treatment for sun radiation. Would you be so kind as to stand up and drop your britches?"

Sheppard stared at the Scot in horror to see if he was serious. When the needle bearing individual continued to advance in his direction, he quickly beelined around the bed and stopped behind Dex. "I'd love to stay, but I really need to go see Elizabeth." A quick pat to the leather clad shoulder before leaving, he gestured to Lukinov to open the door.

Ronon stared in confusion at the antics. When the doctor shot him a wink, he allowed a small smile to cross his face.

"Oh, and Andy Cleets, take good care of our new lion," Sheppard called out before the door whooshed shut behind him.

"Andy Cleets? You told me your name was Beckett."

Letting out a pained sigh, Carson carefully tugged Ronon's vest free from his back, careful of the dried blood sticking to the leather and skin. "The colonel was attempting to be humorous. Androcles and the Lion is an ancient fable by Aesop about a man and a lion."

The large man sat still, focusing on the unfamiliar accent to distract himself from the sting of whatever the man was doing to his back. With his garment removed, he felt Carson give him a small nudge to lie down on his stomach. A sharp pinch between his shoulder blades made him stiffen before a numbing freedom removed the pain. Eyes half closed in relief, he listened to the story.

"A slave escaped his master and hid in the hills, only to find himself in the cave of a lion. Terrified of the beast, Androcles resigns himself to being eaten but instead the lion presents his wounded paw with a thorn imbedded deeply in the padding. Removing the thorn, the lion allows him to leave." Carson felt the taut muscles beneath his hands relax as the sedative slowly took effect. Carefully cleaning the wound, he double checked the stitches, before reapplying a dressing.

"What happened to the slave?" Ronon asked sleepily.

"He was caught and returned to his master, who decided that his punishment would be to publicly be thrown into a den of wild hungry lions." Ronon stiffened slightly as Carson placed the last piece of tape across the runner's shoulder. "But once Androcles entered the pit, the lion that was inside laid down at the frightened slave's feet. It was the beast who had had a thorn in its paw. The audience was awed and the governor demanded their release."

"Colonel Sheppard believes I am this lion?" mumbled Dex.

"Aye, lad." Carson draped a sheet over his newest patient.

"He is right." There was a long pause and the Scot thought the weary man had finally succumbed to sleep before the voice quietly added, "I too will protect you from future harm because of the kindness you have shown me."

Carson smiled softly, looking back between his two charges in the room. "Thank you, lad. I can use all the help I can get."

TBC