WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE
Chapter 14
Carson was the first to admit Ancient tech was a very useful tool. It was handy for discovering damage that could easily go unnoticed by the more traditional x-rays and scans, but nothing in his opinion could mimic or replace the talent of a really fine surgeon.
A sharp brain, and a skilled pair of hands could mean the difference between life and death. The chief of surgery at Mercy General, Stella Morgan, was one such technician, as well as having the distinction of being an old friend. It seemed a lifetime ago since they'd first met. Back then he'd been a callow student and she was the teacher who'd taught him a whole lot more than neurology. Yet life being the way it was, time moved on for both of them. Carson, to forge a successful career before eventually joining Atlantis, and Stella, to find someone to replace him in her affections, eventually settling down in the beautiful islands of Hawaii.
It had been sheer luck they'd only recently reconnected. On that occasion, Sheppard had landed in trouble yet again, but Carson had also been in the thick of it, and ended up in Stella's care resuming a friendship he'd believed was long gone. At the time, Carson knew she'd been curious about his situation, but like the good friend she was Stella had given the help that was needed without asking too many questions – just like now.
Carson trusted her, and had always known he could rely on Stella's discretion, but to her credit she only gave him an odd look, when one minute the operating suite was empty, and the next she walked into to find two critically ill patients and one grimy medic – him.
There was nothing wrong with the staff on the Daedalus, far from it, they and their facilities were second to none. If it were just John Sheppard, Carson wouldn't have considered treating his patient anywhere else, but there was another man involved. Commander McGarrett needed help urgently, and it would cause all sorts of unwanted questions if the head of Five O were to disappear.
In the end, Carson settled for the best of both worlds. He used the advanced tech on board the space craft for triage, but unfortunately neither patient was doing too well. McGarrett simply holding his own, while Sheppard was struggling to maintain even a borderline set of vitals.
Even in the dim light of the mines, he'd been able to see both men had been tortured, but the tell-tale circular burns confirmed what his readings already told him, only John had been electrocuted. Sheppard's beleaguered heart was struggling to cope with the massive shock it had received, and Carson was having a hell of a job trying to sort out his cardiac rhythm.
He'd been a medic for most of his life, and Carson had seen it all, done it all, including treating the victims of torture before, but it still sickened him to the core. Injuries sustained on the battlefield while defending friend or country, he could understand if not wholly accept. But torture, the persecution of another human who was unable to defend himself, filled him with rage.
Apart from the electrocution, Colonel Sheppard had been beaten. His back covered with deep angry welts, and he'd been shot twice, once at close range. Each wound, especially the thrashing would have caused excruciating pain, but Carson was more worried about the crackle in his chest. The scan confirmed what he'd already known - there was internal bleeding. It had been caused by a broken rib, and Carson suspected it was one of those cracked during John's earlier assault, which had now punctured his lung.
A bullet was lodged deep in McGarrett's chest, and his body had been ripped apart by a blade. The gunshot wound was the most serious injury, but Carson was both revolted, and fascinated, why someone had cut the skin on his arms and chest into a weird ragged pattern. It looked like the torturer had tried to design a warped extension to his tattoos, but this wasn't art, and must have hurt like hell.
Carson looked up, and saw Stella was prepped and ready to operate on McGarrett in the opposite theatre. Their eyes locked through the glass window partition, and Carson could tell she was angry - he didn't need to ask why. She was engaged at the horrendous wounds of the patient in front of her, but like the professional she was Stella simply nodded, accepted the scans, and set to work saving McGarrett's life.
Time lost its meaning as the hours blurred one into the other, but his parched throat, and the ache in his back, told Carson he'd been operating for hours. It had still been light when they'd begun the laborious process of repairing the damage on these two fine men, but after he'd settled John in intensive care, and joined Stella in her office, the scarlet hues of dawn were giving way to yellow glow of the sun.
Even exhausted, Stella still looked good. The pale blue scrubs brought out the azure in her piercing eyes, and the dark wavy hair, springing from the bun she'd used to keep it in place, only served to frame her beautiful face. She smiled up from the desk when she saw him coming, and went over to the bubbling coffee pot.
"Black, no sugar – right?" Stella asked without looking round, but didn't wait for an answer. Carson smiled. She was correct of course, as some habits don't change over the years.
He took the mug gratefully, then once she'd resumed her seat, slumped in the chair opposite. Stella opened her desk drawer and threw him a muffin. It was blueberry, his favourite - the woman forgot nothing.
"How's Colonel Sheppard?"
He took a gulp of the steaming brew, immediately regretting the action as he spluttered when he burned the roof of his mouth. "Not great. One of his ribs punctured his lung and lacerated his spleen. He coded on the table, and for a while I thought he wasn't going to make it through the surgery."
Stella reached over, took his hand squeezed it, and held on for a long moment before letting go. "Well he did, thanks to you. You pulled him through, Scotty, and from what you've told me before, Colonel Sheppard has an inborn survival instinct…He's going to be okay Carson, I feel it in my gut."
Carson hoped that was true, but for once he didn't feel confident. "Thanks, love - how's Commander McGarrett?"
Stella leaned back on her chair, and perched her feet on the edge of the desk. "The bullet clipped the chest wall, and broke his clavicle, but it could have been a lot worse. There was a tricky little bleeder we had trouble getting under control, and it took quite a while to close those blasted lacerations, but he's doing okay considering the amount of blood he lost. If we can get him through the next twenty-four hours without any complications, I'm hoping he's going to make it.
"Thanks, Stella, for arranging all this at such short notice…and for not asking any questions." Carson's voice cracked slightly, unsure exactly how he could repay her for everything she'd done.
In response, Stella put a finger up to her lips. "Hush…Thanks aren't necessary, I was happy to help." She said, then her smile became a devilish grin. "As for what happened today, I'll admit I'm more than a little curious, but I trust you, Carson, and I know if you were able to tell me, you would."
Stella rose to her feet, came around the desk, and extended a hand. "What say we go and tell a group of very anxious people how their friend's are doing? Then I'm heading home to spend a few minutes with my daughter before she goes to school."
Carson accepted the hand and rose to his feet. He'd been so worried about John he'd completely forgotten about the small group waiting for news. It was probably because nothing was familiar here, apart from his patient. This hospital was nothing like his infirmary in Atlantis, but it still didn't excuse his oversight. "Bloody hell - I should have thought of that… Stella, I hate to ask for another favour, but if you don't mind could I hang around for a bit afterwards, to keep an eye on my patient?"
"Already organised, Carson." Stella chuckled, and her warm eyes crinkled in amusement. "I know your habits of old, so I've arranged for a cot to be put in Sheppard's room."
Now it was Carson's turn to smile. "Am I that predictable?"
"Yes…you are." Stella patted his cheek. "And that's what makes you one of the finest doctors I know. By the way, could you keep an eye on Commander McGarrett for me? He's in the room next door. I'm on call in case of emergency's but -"
"No problem, lass." Carson interrupted. "You go home and spend some time with your family, and I'll call you if there's anything I can't handle."
They remained silent for the rest of the walk to the waiting room, but when they arrived outside the door not a single sound could be heard from inside. No snarking from either Danny or McKay, and Carson doubted if anyone was relaxed enough to sleep.
He hesitated for a moment, wondering what he could say to give his people some hope, when Stella touched his sleeve. They exchanged a glance as he reached for the handle. "C'mon, love – lets get this over with."
ooooOoooo
It tore him apart seeing Steve hooked up to a bunch of machines. McGarrett's face almost as pale as the swathes of bandages covering him like a freaking mummy, but Danny was denied retribution. The sadists who'd done this were lying in the morgue, unable to pay for their crimes and Danny knew Wo Fat, was the man behind it, but without proof, he was untouchable. Nevertheless if Steve died, untouchable or not, Danny was determined to bring the bastard down – regardless of the consequences.
He hated vigils. Just watching his friend breathing, waiting for him to wake up was driving him nuts. The doc had told them to go home. That someone would call when their friend came round, but Danny had chosen to stay. He wanted to be there, to keep watch, at the back of his mind anxious in case Steve were to die alone. Steve was just lying there, unmoving, silent, ever since he'd come out of surgery. The only noise Danny could hear an irritating, tapping sound that almost drowned out the machines scattered around the bed.
It had been hours since he'd eaten, but he wasn't hungry, although coffee sounded good. He glanced at his friend and as there was no change, at least none he could tell, Danny wondered if he should risk grabbing a brew when the annoying sound went up a notch. He wandered over to each of the machines in turn, but the sound wasn't coming from this room, so Danny went outside. There it was, coming from the room next door accompanied by a monotonous monologue. He would have recognised the annoying snippy tone anywhere - Rodney McKay.
Pissed, he only stopped from banging on the door when Danny remembered Sheppard was lying inside, fighting his own battle for survival. So taking a calming breath, he inwardly counted to ten, and holding back his anger knocked quietly, before walking inside.
McKay looked up, but didn't stop his one sided conversation. "And you wouldn't believe what Zelenka's done - well, I suppose you would. Let's just say the moron managed to fry the internal sensors, putting them offline for days, and landing himself in the infirmary. Fortunately it wasn't too serious," Rodney continued, "but his right hand is badly burned, so it'll be left to yours truly to complete his staff evaluations."
McKay puzzled him. One minute he's tearing this guy Zelnec, or whatever his name was to shreds, then the next the geek sounded concerned about him. His last words hung in the air as McKay went silent, but the rat ta tat of the keyboard had never stopped, and Danny now knew that was the sound he'd heard.
"Do you know how annoying that is?" Danny blurted, not trying to hide his irritation.
McKay shrugged. "Yeah, it's meant to be." He answered, while continuing battering the keys.
"Excuse me, did I hear you right? You know it's annoying but you keep doing it – what the hell is with you? Are you determined to piss everyone off?" Danny ranted, wanting to grab the laptop off him and throw it out the window.
Rodney paused, but the look he gave didn't hold any anger or even his usual condescension. "I figure if I make enough noise, he'll wake up…sometimes it even works." The scientist's face clouded over, and he smiled ruefully.
Speechless, Danny came over, pulled up another chair and looked at the injured man properly for the first time. Sheppard was on a vent, the only thing keeping him alive, and Danny felt guilty for not coming round before. Fact was, he'd been so worried about Steve, he'd nearly forgotten both men had endured the horrendous ordeal together.
He glanced at Rodney, seeing him in a new light. "The way you said that, tells me this is nothing new. Does Sheppard get beaten up a lot?"
The geek snorted, and rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah…Captain Courageous here is a real trouble magnet. I've lost count how many times he's ended up like this – I'll probably end up crippled with RSI because of him."
"RSI?" Danny's face twisted, then it dawned on him, and he sniggered softly. "Oh, I get it, repetitive strain injury. You're a funny guy, Mckay."
McKay narrowed his eyes. "What's funny about it? Can you see my pinkie – look – the joint's double the size it should be. Once Sleeping Beauty over there wakes up, I'm going to ask him about it."
A loud snore followed by a whistle, drew Danny's attention to the man sleeping soundly in a cot in the corner of the room. Carson looked exhausted, and he was glad the doc was catching some Z's, as he'd been going back and forth between the two men all day.
"I was just going to grab a coffee from the machine. Would you like one?" Danny asked, not knowing where the impulse came from.
"It tastes vile, and has probably burned a hole in my gut already…but thanks, it'll help keep me awake." Rodney's face brightened. "Could you grab me some candy too? But nothing with citrus in it – I'm allergic."
"Sure – anything else?" But Rodney just shook his head. He was already talking to the unresponsive man about someone called Woolsey, and it was pretty obvious McKay didn't like the guy much.
Danny couldn't stop the slow smile growing as he left the room. McKay was a loudmouthed, pain in the ass, smart alec, but the geek was okay. In fact Danny was starting to understand why Sheppard liked him.
Then suddenly a thought struck him and Danny stopped, rushed back and popped his head round the door. "Hey, Rodney – could you do me a favour? Would you bang on these keys extra loud so McGarrett can hear you?"
ooooOoooo
The lunch crowd had gone, and no one noticed the man hidden by shadows in the corner booth. Wo Fat swallowed the last of his coffee and was about to leave, when he spotted the tall figure of the combat engineer walk through the door.
The man looked nervous, and kept glancing over his shoulder before he finally made his way to the back of the restaurant and slid into the booth beside him. "Good afternoon, Major Henderson. What do you have to report?"
"There was no trace of the cyborg, and Walker's research was destroyed by the blast. Your men were already dead when we got in there. Some killed by the blast, but the others had taken fire, apart from one guy who's throat was cut." Henderson spoke quietly, making his voice even lower, when one of the waitresses walked past.
Wo Fat merely nodded in reply, then snapped his fingers at the waitress to bring more coffee. He didn't offer any to the man opposite. "What of the woman – where is she?"
"In the hospital." Henderson told him. "She's calling herself Katherine Moore, and spinning some line she's an innocent tourist who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. As far as I know Five O haven't been allowed by the medics to do any serious questioning yet."
Nor would they. Wo Fat had already made plans to extract his latest operative, to find out what she'd learned, right before he terminated her employment.
The engineer looked anxious, his top lip moist with perspiration even in the air-conditioned restaurant. "I'm really sorry about Walker." He babbled. "By the time I could leave the excavation without arousing suspicion, he'd already been extracted from the safe house, but I've done everything else you wanted." Henderson told him, then almost as an afterthought he blurted. "That's the advantage of being a combat engineer. No one pays us any attention, unless of course they need us. In the meantime we can go anywhere – like ghosts."
Wo Fat considered the man in front of him. Henderson was a loose end, but with Sheppard still alive, a ghost could be a useful source of information in the future. He would get the secrets to Atlantis from Sheppard one day, but Walker on the other hand would need to be dealt with – when he could find him.
He smiled, put down a small slip of paper on the table, and pushed it over to the man opposite. "I've transferred over the agreed amount to an offshore account in your wife's name."
The engineer went to take it, only to find Wo Fat's hand holding onto the paper. "I trust I can reply on your discretion?"
Henderson paled and started to stutter. "Sur…sure thing, Sir – I won't tell a soul. Who are you anyway?" He started to laugh nervously at his own bad joke, but went a shade whiter when Wo Fat realised the paper and pulled out a picture of Henderson's wife and two young sons.
"Such a lovely family, I'm sure you must love them very much." Wo Fat smiled, tucked the picture back in his pocket, patted it, then got to his feet. "Have a nice day, Major, and I'll be in touch when I require your services again."
It was hot outside and the sun was blinding him, so he slipped on his shades. The beach was quiet this far away from the strip, but the surf was the best on the island, which make him think of McGarrett. His sources had told him the Five O boss was holding his own, and he found that strangely reassuring. Kaz had tortured the man without his authority, and it had certainly not been his intention to kill him, at least not yet. When he did, that pleasure would be his, and his alone.
ooooOoooo
TBC
BTW, I know there isn't a Mercy General in Hawaii, but my OC, Carson's friend Stella, worked there in another fic of mine "The Ties That Bind." But this isn't a self pimp, as you don't need to read it, however when I needed a second doc to sort the boy's out, she immediately came to mind!
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.