A BEE IN THE BONNET By NotTasha
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PART 15: MOUSE

"Major? Major?" for the second time within 24-hours, Sheppard was awakened by a lilting and insistent brogue.

The major squinted and peered up at the doctor. "Carson," he returned, stretching on the comfy chair. He was in Beckett's waiting room – a space that the doctor had set up for just this purpose – a place to sequester visitors when he'd had enough of them. Sheppard had no idea where Beckett had procured the furniture, but it was certainly the most comfortable furnishings on the whole complex.

"If ye want to come in and see him, you can. Just for a minute," The doctor stood with his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, looking terribly tired.

Stiffly, Sheppard peeled himself out of the chair. He didn't remember falling asleep. He just remembered how long it took to extract McKay from that hole. They'd started with such a small, experimental hole that was enlarged twice before it was big enough to actually use. They'd pulled Rodney out first, Sheppard helping to guide him through the opening. By the time Sheppard had gotten himself out – Beckett and the other doctor were already wheeling the astrophysicist away in a gosh-darn hurry.

Sheppard felt his blood run cold when he heard the dark-skinned doctor shouting, "He's seizing!" and then the gurney disappeared from sight.

John had followed, with the others – and they had been forced to wait here until Beckett could give them some news.

"How is he?" Sheppard asked, unable to read Beckett's weary expression.

The doctor shrugged as he turned and lead the way. "Hangin' in there," he responded.

Sheppard glanced about, surprised to find that he'd been the sole inhabitant of the waiting room. "The others?" he asked. Weir, Teyla and Ford had all accompanied him here.

Beckett answered his question, "They've been and gone. I've sent them to bed. It's where you should be right now, Major."

"Should've woke me up sooner," Sheppard grumbled, keeping at Beckett's heels.

"Aye," the doctor responded. "Thought I'd let you rest a bit more. You've had a busy day."

They moved into the infirmary, toward a curtained off bed. Sheppard always hated this – the surprise behind the curtain. Carson paused, looked at Sheppard as if to prepare him, then pushed back the drape. Sheppard stepped forward and let out a sigh, his eyes on the unmoving inhabitant of the bed. McKay was pale and motionless, with sunken eyes and hair plastered to his head. He looked as if he'd fall to pieces if touched.

"He looks like shit."

"Aye," Beckett replied. "That's not the clinical term, but it's fitting."

Rodney was hooked up to a half dozen different things: oxygen, beeping monitors, IV bags, other bags placed lower on the bed frame. The IV's were attached to his legs instead of his arms where Sheppard would have expected them.

"Couldn't find a vein," Beckett explained, reading his question. "He was pretty much dried out." He tsked as he shook his head. "What with the severity of his dehydration and his hypoglycemic reaction, he wasn't going to last much longer. If you hadn't 'ave found him when you did…" and Beckett trailed off.

Sheppard watched the monitors around the bed, hating them. "Is he going to be okay?"

The doctor shrugged again. "We'll do everything we can for him," he stated. "I'd like to say that he'll be right as rain in a day or so, but there may be complications. I'm tryin' to keep him from shock and any further seizures, and…" Beckett paused to run a hand through his tousled hair. "He's had three since we found him. Then there's the possibility of brain damage."

Sheppard closed his eyes as if pained. God, no… not that.

Beckett continued, "We'll just have to wait it out and hope. He was in a bad way, Major, a really bad way." He glanced to Sheppard, and said, "Now, it's time for you to go to bed. I'll call if anything changes."

"Can I stay here?" Sheppard asked.

Beckett let out a breath. "Now, Major, you need your rest. It'd be best for everyone if you get out of my way and into your own room. We have rules here, you know."

"What'd be best for him?" Sheppard asked, nodding toward McKay. When Beckett offered him no response, Sheppard declared. "I'll stay out of your way and not make a sound."

The Scotsman quietly declared, "You need your rest."

"So do you. When do you sleep?" Sheppard shot back.

"I sleep when I'm able," Beckett replied enigmatically.

"I've had a nap," Sheppard bargained. "Come on, just let me sit with him. He was in that goddamn floor, alone, in the dark …for almost a day. Do you have any idea what that must have been like? And, for Christ's sake, the last thing he needs to do is wake up without anyone near him. If you just let me…"

"All right! All right!" Beckett held up his hands in surrender. "You sit in that chair and stay out of my way." He spoke sternly, "If ye cause me any trouble, I'll have you marched out of here. Don't think I can't."

"Right, right," Sheppard responded, grabbing a chair and shoving it into position beside Rodney's bed. "I'll be quiet as a mouse."

"Mice are loud little buggers," Beckett mumbled. "You ever try t'sleep when a whole family of them are dancin' about your head?"

Sheppard chuckled, wanting to laugh at something as he sat down. "Where've you been sleeping, Carson?"

"Oh," Beckett responded, moving away. "My gram's house is a bit rustic. She's a little addled, but a dear thing. She leaves cheese out for them."

"Everybody loves cheese," Sheppard said as he smiled, but the expression faded as he got a closer look at Rodney. Yeah, 'shit' was the only way to describe that pasty, sickly look. Damn it, McKay, how could this happen? He sat down and prepared himself for a long night – wondering why the chairs within the infirmary had to be so damn uncompromising compared to those in the waiting room.

Beckett returned to Sheppard's side, dropping a blanket on him without saying anything further.
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A/N: things are going to be getting better from now on... hopefully.