Sorry for the huge delay in posting, my bad.
Part two – Conclusion
Carson pushed himself wearily out of the comfy armchair in the Rec room. His tired arms shaking slightly with the effort, he yawned, stretched his arms above head, and out to the sides pulling his bunched muscles taught. The recent sleep deprivation was making his tired eyes itch and cause his limbs to become more susceptible to gravity. He figured he'd look in on John for a moment before going to bed, he knew Sheppard would be asleep after all the booze he'd drunk but Carson just wanted to check, to make sure he was okay. He waved goodnight to Rodney and proceeded past his own bedroom door to Sheppard's. the door opened with a whoosh and his nose was accosted by the rancid smell of vomit. He hurried over to John's bed, snapping the lights on along the way. He stumbled slightly when hi foot slipped on some broken glass by the Colonel's bed. H noticed two open and empty packets of Tylenol strewn across the floor, a few of the pills dotting the tiles. "Oh good lord lad, what have ya done?" he reached down and checked John's pulse and was extremely pleased to find it strong beneath his fingers. He was about to call for a medical team but something stopped him. He knew Sheppard had been incredibly drunk and would never normally consider taking his own life, but if he ended up in the infirmary it would go on his permanent record and possibly jeopardize his future career. Judging by the large amount of vomit on the bed and the floor Carson reasoned that no real harm had been done, in the morning he could get Sheppard checked out for a hangover and make sure he was okay then. He decided to stay and watch John for the night, just in case, so he quickly went back to his own room and fetched his medical kit. Upon returning to Sheppard's quarters he pulled back the covers intent on cleaning John up a bit. He gasped when he saw the dried blood on the covers. He took John's wrist and gave it a quick examination; the cut was shallow and ragged, running sideways. He sighed with relief that Sheppard had been far too inebriated to cause any damage. It wouldn't even need stitches. He quickly and very gently cleaned the cut with an alcohol wipe and wrapped it in a crisp white bandage. He then hauled John up away from the vomit covering his pillow and situated him in the recovery position on the other side of the bed. John didn't even stir he was completely dead to the world. He pulled the dirty sheet away from John being unable to remove them completely as Sheppard was sleeping soundly on the other half. Carson then set about cleaning the sick from John's face and hair. He fetched a damp cloth from the bathroom and softly caressed John's face with it, effectively cleaning his face. Sheppard was pale and looked almost child like in his sleep. He pulled the cover back over John's body, checked his pulse once more and settled himself in a chair opposite to watch his patient and friend.
John woke to the vile smell of vomit, his throat was dryer than the Sahara and his head pounded. He gingerly licked his lips and opened his eyes. "Good morning, have a wee headache do ya?"
Oh god, the infirmary, man he hated waking up there. As his thoughts caught up with him however, he quickly realized that he was not in fact in the infirmary, but lying face down on his own bed. He moaned as he tried to move, his whole body hurt so much that he found himself wishing the ground would swallow him whole. "Yes I have a headache." He mumbled.
"Well I'm not surprised, why don't ya get a nice hot shower and I'll fetch some coffee." Actually that sounded pretty good so John grunted and managed to drag himself up and into the bathroom. He was shocked to find a bandage wrapped around his left wrist so he removed it carefully to reveal a shallow cut across his wrist. He couldn't remember cutting himself, but he did remember drinking stupidly large amounts of vodka so perhaps he'd cut himself on the bottle or something. He stepped into the stall and leaned on the wall for support, his head pounded mercilessly and his body was so fatigued he thought he might actually drop. It took a small age for him to finish showering; he kept drifting of into a sort of day dream, and staring at nothing in particular. When he emerged from the bathroom, clean and dressed in his uniform he found Dr Beckett sitting at his table sipping coffee with a plate of toast in front of him. The smell of food turned his stomach and he almost loss what little contents it held right there. He sat down opposite Carson and stared down at his coffee still trying to keep control of his mutinous stomach. He cupped the mug enjoying the warmth of the ceramic, lost in his own little day dream world again.
"How are you feeling, lad?" Carson tenderly reached across the table and lightly shook Sheppard's right arm to ground him in the real world.
John blinked dumbly a few times before answering. "Like I drank half a still and then some last night." He looked up and caught the Doc's eye, he was surprised to see genuine concern and worry across his friends face. He wondered why on earth Carson had been in his room when he woke and why he was looking at him, as if searching for something. "Er… last night, I didn't say or do anything did I?"
Carson gave a small chuckle before taking John's arm again. "Well you were rather drunk and upset." Oh god. He had absolutely no memory of talking with Carson last night much less telling him anything. Beckett hastily and sensitively gave him the low down on last nights events. He left out the kiss unsure of where it had been a simply drunken mistake or not. Carson watched as Sheppard's face contorted with horror when he told him how he'd found him lying in his own vomit with a slashed wrist.
"Oh god, Carson I am so damn sorry, I have no idea why I did that!"
"It's alright, I know, you're not the first and you won't be the last fool to do something daft after one too many drinks."
"I guess. I really am sorry to have put you through that. Thank you for taking care of me." John smiled weakly and sipped his coffee.
Carson smiled back, gave John's arm a squeeze and promised himself to never let John feel alone like he had done the night before. He may not be able to tell Sheppard how he felt but he could sure be the best damn friend he'd ever had.
"No problem. Now finish your coffee, I'd like to run a few quick test, just to be on the safe side and don't worry, no one needs to know." John beamed and thanked his friend one more, and vowed to pay Carson back for his kindness someday.
