I'm back, with another chapter! Hope you like it...I still don't own any of this, I just play with the cheeky little buggers once in a while.
Chapter 4
Beckett opened bleary eyes, suppressing a moan at the slight headache. It took a few blinks before he recognized Elizabeth and Terry Martinez, one of the young medics, kneeling in front of him. He looked around. The control room was filled with both military and science personnel, scurrying around, trying to decide what was salvageable. They were organizing groups to clear debris and move the crashed jumper away from the main stairwell. Not only did it make it more difficult to descend from the upper floor and main control room, but it also blocked other jumpers from entering or exiting the gate.
Elizabeth smiled and nodded encouragingly at him, then her eyes slid to the side as she tapped her earpiece. She squeezed Carson on the shoulder before she stood and walked away, speaking to someone on the radio.
Zelenka was still at the hidden access panel he'd pried open on the outer fuselage of the jumper, fiddling with his handheld notebook, casting occasional nervous glances their way as Carson sat propped up against the cool metal bulkhead. Terry reached toward his forehead and he grabbed the medic's wrist to halt the movement. There were injured in the jumper, and he was here sitting on his arse, passed out for who knew how long. Carson clutched at a piece of the pitted, damaged exterior of the jumper beside him and started to lever himself up. Terry seemed ready to push him right back down, but Beckett wasn't about to be restrained. Terry finally relented, and with an unhappy expression, he reached for an arm to lift, then Zelenka appeared at his other side to help with a firm hand, pushing his rimmed glasses back toward the bridge of his nose. The Czech scientist looked like he wanted to say something, but he clapped his mouth shut.
Carson turned toward the jumper and leaned in as his vision grayed. He took a breath and shrugged the supporting hands away, concentrating on the tactile surface of the jumper's exterior to ground his senses. Another breath and he opened his eyes, drawing on every reserve of energy to take him around the back of the jumper and up the ramp.
Except for blankets covering the two bodies in the forward section, the interior was empty, the power still off. A splash of red colored the left bench seat where one of his nurses had hopefully managed to survive until proper help could arrive. But Beckett's eyes were truly drawn toward the crimson that stained the floor; the discarded, red-soaked bandages and gauze, the empty syringes thrown to the side along with failed IV lines and the remains of an intubation kit.
He spun around, reaching out a hand to grip the upper equipment rail as the grayness returned to his vision. Terry and Zelenka were standing right behind him, both looking like they were going to descend at a moment's notice if he faltered. He waved them off with his free hand.
The Czech scientist began talking in a quiet voice about the survivors being rushed away, and of somehow being comforted by the fact that Rodney had found enough strength to complain about his treatment, or lack of. They had left Terry behind and were sending another gurney right back for Beckett. Ronon would not leave the Colonel's side and looked ready to fight anyone who suggested otherwise. Then Zelenka glanced at the blood staining the floor and simply raised one shoulder as if he didn't know what to say any more.
Damn. Carson didn't have the luxury of taking up one of his own infirmary beds. They were already short one base physician, a close friend and colleague who had died an untimely death, and a good portion of his staff were presently offworld, helping a pre-industrial society with a mild contagion outbreak. The settlement was several hours walk from the Stargate, and with the state of the crash blocking half of the gate room, it would be impossible to descend a jumper down the central tower to retrieve them. Luckily, they still had Doctors Cole and Biro and their complement of military personnel had a few medics like Terry.
He released his fingers from the netting of the equipment bins and tested his balance, then pushed past the two men and hurried out of the jumper, the rubber soles of his boots squeaking with each rushed step. About half way to the infirmary, he found his way partially blocked by a gurney heading in the opposite direction and he pushed it aside. By the surprised looks on the faces of the two orderlies, he'd probably added a little exclamation of frustration, but he would have to save the apologies for later.
The infirmary was chaos with a capital C. The few beds not already taken up by the usual complement of minor injuries or illnesses, were now occupied by the victims of the jumper crash. Teyla was in one of the first beds, answering a medic's questions quietly while he performed the required examinations from head to toe. Ronon sat unhappily in a chair next to her, arms crossed tightly, a fresh bandage taped beneath his eye. His intense gaze never wavering from the back corner of the infirmary where Beckett was heading.
Rodney was a few beds down, an IV taped to his hand, and his arm being freshly bandaged by a nurse while Doctor Biro performed a neuro check. Atlantis' chief scientist and head complainer seemed to be responding to some of the questions with occational insults about Biro being a "real" doctor. But his voice was weak, his answers sounding pained and somehow confused when pressed for an answer. Rodney saw Carson out of the corner of his eye as he neared the bed and he tried to sit up straighter, snatching his injured arm from the nurse's grasp to push at Biro. She wasn't quick enough to match his rise off the bed, and he fell back, grabbing at his head and retching painfully. Biro expertly avoided being covered by the mess as they rolled Rodney onto his side and he threw up all over the bed and the floor. She promptly ordered a visit to the scanner for the physicist. As Beckett sailed past, Rodney managed to ask about Sheppard in a shaking voice.
I just don't know, Rodney.
What Carson headed for, was the last station. It was surrounded by a flurry of activity.
A naso-gastric tube had already been threaded down Sheppard's throat to drain the blood that was collecting in his stomach. Doctor Cole was on the other side of the gurney, pushing the guidewire of a central line into the large vein beneath Sheppard's clavicle while one of the nurses stood ready to clear the blood from the site after she was finished. Another nurse was pressing down on the bandages that covered his abdomen, the fresh white material already showing spreading spots of red. He wasn't clotting, so there wouldn't be time to put him under the scanner. He was still loosing blood, and immediate exploratory surgery would be needed to start sewing up the internal bleeds and fix the lacerated and torn organs.
It was unnatural to see Sheppard so still. A man of boundless energy and enthusiasm. He could give Rodney a run for his money, although Rodney's energy stemmed from being high-strung, paranoid and slightly neurotic. Except for the steady rise and fall of his chest as the ventilator forced air in and out of his unresponsive lungs, Sheppard was almost lifeless, his skin drained of all color. A stark contrast to his unruly dark hair.
Cole connected the central line to several bags hanging behind the gurney. Fluids and blood quickly began to infuse down the tubing directly into Sheppard's circulatory system through the large vein in his chest, replacing some of the lost volume until they could prep the surgical suite.
Dr. Cole made an adjustment on the central line and moved back so the nurse could attend to the insertion site. It was at that moment she finally noticed Carson. She looked ready to send him away to his own infirmary bed, but some look must have passed between them, and she knew that he wouldn't rest with Sheppard in such bad shape and an infirmary full of patients. She smiled grimly as she hurried around the gurney toward the scrub room.
Carson was the best doctor on base, and that was why he was CMO, but he'd been injured himself in the crash. Even though an extra set of hands during Sheppard's surgery would be a great asset with such extensive wounds, he wouldn't put a patient at risk for that type of procedure. Surgeons had to be at their best, and not even a fistful of Tylenol, or a Band-Aid decorating his forehead would satisfy the requirements. He would be able to take on some of the less pressing cases after he cleaned up and relieved Doctor Biro for the assist.
He glanced down at the dried blood that coated his hands and clothing. Medical school taught you many things, including pulling reserves of energy from places you never knew you had. Something he didn't need to explain to Doctor Cole, a frequent migraine sufferer. Carson headed for a nearby sink to wash his hands, watching the water turn a gaudy pink as it flowed down the drain, then headed for Rodney's cubicle to relieve Biro for the surgery. He noticed one of Sheppard's arms hanging limply over the side of the gurney and closed his hand on the cool skin, smiling at one of the nurses as she managed the various tubes and lines that kept her patient alive. They were getting ready to move him toward the operating room.
He could imagine Ronon standing silent guard until someone forced the Satedan runner from the bedside to have his own wounds tended to, probably with a warning that he was only getting in the way. John Sheppard had many friends, including himself. But he was also his doctor. A duality he sometimes had trouble dealing with. He would have to do with simply being a friend. Gently, he eased John's arm back beneath the sheet before he headed for the medicine cabinet. He could put up with Rodney's antics better after he took some Tylenol to ease his slight headache. With a wry smile, he thought perhaps in this case, Rodney would prefer a Highland voodoo sheep shearer to a ghoulish "pseudo-MD" pathologist.
As alarms went off behind him, he immediately switched back into doctor-mode.
TBC