A random drabble inspired by some comments on the GW Shep Whump thread.. which were in turn inspired by Linzi's reali-life whump and tetanus injection... so I guess this one is all Linzi's fault really:)
Lt Colonel Sheppard looked up at Carson apprehensively as he approached the exam bed with a syringe in hand. He tried to hide it but Carson caught the swift grimace that flashed across his features.
"Uhh, Doc… is that really necessary?"
Carson sighed. "Son, you've a nasty gash that required several stitches and I shouldn't have to tell you about the risk of infection from animal bites… particularly animals native to another galaxy which could harbour who knows what kind of unknown bacteria! So, yes, I'd say an tetanus booster is entirely necessary."
Sheppard's eyes never strayed from the capped needle in Carson's hand as the doctor spoke and if Carson hadn't known better he'd have thought the man was actually nervous. He watched Sheppard's reluctant gaze track the needle's motion as he removed the cap and slipped it into the pocket of his lab coat. "Roll up your sleeve please, Colonel."
For a moment Sheppard didn't move, his eyes still on the needle, and Carson wondered briefly if there was going to be a real problem here but then the Colonel sighed heavily and, his mouth twisted in distaste, slowly reached his right hand across to pull the short sleeve of his ubiquitous black t-shirt up onto his shoulder. He kept his hand there, holding the scrunched fabric in place, and turned his head, looking resolutely in the opposite direction.
As Carson reached out to his patient he realised the Colonel was ridiculously tense, actually trembling minutely as he held himself rigidly still, and he sighed with exasperation when Sheppard flinched as he touched a finger to his arm. "For goodness sake, Colonel! What on earth is the matter with you? You've had plenty enough needles stuck in you in this infirmary before, what's the problem with this one?"
Sheppard's head turned reluctantly and the look he gave Carson was one of genuine discomfort. "Yeah, well, I'm usually unconscious for the actual sticking part, aren't I?" he muttered a little pointedly. Carson was surprised to see that the Colonel was actually pale, his face drained of colour, and a fine sheen of sweat had sprung up on his brow. He felt a disbelieving smile pull at his lips.
"Colonel Sheppard.. are you afraid of needles?"
Sheppard's offended "No!" was sharp and immediate, as was the glare he directed at Carson, but the man's physical symptoms gave lie to his denial. Carson was stunned.
"Colonel, you've the highest tolerance for pain I've ever encountered in a patient. You've just sat there and had 5 stitches put in your wrist with nary a flinch or a whimper and you're brave – or daft – enough to fight hand to hand with a Wraith! How can you be afraid of a wee bitty needle?"
"I'm not afraid of needles!" Sheppard snapped sullenly. "I just… I just don't like inoculations. They hurt." The last words were mumbled, almost too quiet to hear, and for a moment Carson was quite convinced he'd hallucinated them. He'd never thought he'd see the day when Colonel Sheppard would voluntarily admit that something hurt, much less complain about it.
He struggled for words, not quite believing he was actually having this conversation. "But.. I've given you injections before, son.."
"Sure. IVs, blood tests, painkillers and goodness knows what else. It's not that I don't trust you, Doc." Sheppard's expression was painfully earnest. "But inoculations hurt." He looked away again, seemingly embarrassed as he mumbled, "Don't ask me why. They just do."
Carson stared for a moment at the back of Sheppard's head, literally at a loss for words. As he gazed in disbelief at a side of Colonel Sheppard he had never seen before, he realised that the man was shaking, the hand on his shoulder clenched into a fist in the fabric of his shirt, every muscle tight with awful anticipation as he waited for the expected injection, and Carson could have kicked himself. Colonel Sheppard was obviously genuinely struggling with this and he, who should have been sympathetic to his patient, had reacted with disbelief and ridicule.
"Okay, son." He projected calmness and reassurance into his voice, speaking quietly, soothingly as he took a firm hold on Sheppard's arm. "We'll have this over and done with in a jiffy."
Sheppard kept his head turned, refusing to watch as Carson slid the needle quickly into his upper arm, the doctor's firm grip compensating for the anticipated jerk of the limb as Sheppard flinched instinctively. The Colonel sucked in a sharp breath, his body tense and shaking, and couldn't hold back a muttered, "Owwwww" as Carson carefully and smoothly depressed the plunger. Carson could see the muscles standing out in Sheppard's neck, the arm under his fingers rigid by the time the plunger slid to a halt and he swiftly withdrew the needle, pressing a scrap of cotton wool over the small bead of blood that welled up.
"There you are, Colonel," he offered reassuringly. "All done." Sheppard relaxed only slightly, his body still held awkwardly as Carson pressed a piece of tape over the cotton wool, holding it in place. "You can pull your sleeve down now, son." Sheppard let the sleeve fall, the hand that had held it in place moving to press gingerly over the injection site, and his face was twisted into a grimace of pain as he turned to peer unhappily at his freshly-injected arm.
Carson frowned. "Are you alright, Colonel?"
Sheppard's expression was still pained and he kept his hand clasped over his arm but he managed to swing his legs and slide himself off the edge of exam bed without using his arms and his voice was full of impatience as he asked, not a little plaintively, "Can I go now?"
"Of course you can, son." Sheppard was moving almost before Carson had finished speaking, striding for the door with his arm still cradled across his body, his right hand hugging his injury protectively, the bandaged, stitched wound on his left wrist utterly ignored as he left the room with a muttered, not entirely sincere, "Thanks, doc."
Carson shrugged helplessly as he turned to dispose of the used needle in the sharps container. He couldn't help feeling a little like his world had been turned on its head. He'd had Colonel Sheppard in his infirmary more times than he could count, had seen the man suffer stoicly through pain and injuries that would make a lesser man scream for relief. He'd just ten minutes ago stitched up a nasty, ragged bite wound that must have hurt like hell to get and, even with a local anaesthetic, to stitch and Sheppard had laughed and joked and chatted with him throughout.
As he turned to his office to update his patient's treatment notes, Carson decided that he would never, ever understand Colonel John Sheppard.
Fin.