THE PINK GAS
PART TWO: VOODOO
———————————————————————
It was a little over eight hours later that the effects started to show themselves. Muscle pain, malaise, fatigue, loss of appetite. Not much later, Beckett was tossing and turning in the empty bunk next McKay with an IV in the back of his hand as a fever steadily climbed.
Now twelve hours post exposure, the little pink gas had taken full effect.
Rodney was sitting up, arm set and casted by none other than his temporary roommate, who lay insensible in the next bed over.
Yeah, Sheppard understood Rodney's unease.
The Major's eyes glanced over at the medical doctor to confirm that Beckett did indeed look much worse
Even expecting it didn't make it any easier to witness. It was frustrating to know that despite the twelve hour window of opportunity to stave off the airborne pathogen, Beckett and his team of gifted medical gurus had been unable to prevent the current acute spiking fever and all the misery that accompanied it.
The fever would be transient. No lasting effects. Zelenka had reassured them of that after repeatedly checking and rechecking his and Grodin's deciphering of the ruins on the walls of the ancient chamber.
Sheppard stared from Beckett to McKay, waiting to hear how the astrophysicist felt and fearing it would not be the cliff note version.
"Fine." Rodney's frustration and disgust manifested itself in his curt truncated answer.
Sheppard raised his eyebrows. He was fairly confident he had never met anyone who could put so much negative emotion into one word.
"How's the doc?" the major asked, swiveling his eyes from the bed restricted scientist to the restlessly sleeping medical doctor.
"Fever 's still up, been complaining about it being hot, and he doesn't know where he is when he manages to open his eyes," Rodney answered.
Sheppard raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side at the clear concern. He knew Rodney cared about Beckett and Ford and Teyla and even himself, but the man took great lengths not to expose that concern. Sheppard was not too sure he understood why, but he accepted it. It was what made McKay, McKay.
"What's-his-name over there," Sheppard tilted his head back and to the side, quickly indicating the dark skinned 'no name' doctor that was now temporarily in charge of the infirmary until Beckett was back on his feet, "said we just have to wait it out, let it run its course. Not much anybody can do for him."
"Voodoo," Rodney spat, his injury forgotten while he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Only one around here with an ounce of brains is Carson." McKay stared at the pale features and fever tinged cheeks of his 'roommate.' "And it's not like he's doin' himself any good."
As if on cue, Carson weakly started pulling on his scrub shirt, trying to peel it away from his skin all the while kicking furtively at his blankets, "Hot, hot, hot," he mumbled rolling uneasily onto his side and facing McKay and Sheppard.
The two watched silently.
Their attention turned when the doctor on duty pulled back the curtain and entered the little space. A stethoscope draped loosely around his neck and a binder was held loosely in his large hand. The pockets of his lab coat appeared stuffed with scraps of paper and pen marks lined the outer material where he had missed returning an uncapped pen to his pocket, apparently multiple times. A large ink spot blotted the far bottom corner of the once pristine coat.
"Gentlemen," The doctor greeted the major and astrophysicist with a smile, "How's our patient doing?"
"Arm hurts. Carson looks like shit," Rodney pointed out.
The doctor sighed, "Yes, unfortunately he does."
The doctor strode behind Sheppard to the far side of Beckett's bed and placed his binder on the nearby chair. He patted his pockets, crinkling barely visible scraps of paper searching futilely for a pen.
Sheppard quickly looked over his shoulder to McKay and mouthed, "What's his name?"
Rodney merely shrugged, not about to tell him.
Sheppard stared daggers at the scientist. McKay scrunched his face and snarled back at the Major.
"He going to be okay?" Sheppard asked, turning away from McKay and facing the Doctor with the elusive name.
Sheppard watched as the Internist searched his pockets blindly with his fingers. He eventually gave up and opened the binder. Held it up by its stiff edges and shook it, rattling the papers inside of it to no avail. He shook his head in disgust and frustration.
The major finally cleared his throat, and when he had the doctor's attention, Sheppard tapped his own ear.
The physician's eyes widened as he brought his hand to the upper rim of his ear and found his missing pen. "Ahh there it is. Thank you, Major." He then turned his attention back to his binder, noting the time and IV fluid levels. He slipped the pen into his pocket after three tries and adding three more lines to the outer coat.
"Glad to help."
Rodney whimpered softly in distress.
"That arm bothering you, Dr. McKay? Carson has written down in his orders that you may receive more Percodan if warranted."
McKay paled not wanting someone who couldn't find a pen stuck in their ear shooting drugs into his body. "No, it's fine. I'll wait for Carson."
The Internist sighed, "It maybe a while Dr. McKay." The doctor looked up and held McKay's eyes. "It's easier to stop the pain before it takes hold than it is to beat it back."
"I'll wait for Carson," Rodney reiterated with less humor and a baleful stare of his own. His arm was not bothering him as much at the moment. The subcutaneous injection the nurse so unkindly harpooned in his posterior still thankfully lingered in his blood stream.
Sheppard swatted his leg. Telling him to 'knock it off.' McKay harrumphed at him
The physician merely nodded and placed his stethoscope in his ears one handed while resting his other hand on Beckett's forehead. He whistled softly.
McKay shot a worried glance at Sheppard, slowly circling his index finger next to his temple while giving the examining doctor a wide eyed look.
Sheppard shrugged. He could escape if needed.
Beckett irritably turned his head away from the touch, muttering softly.
"Easy, Carson." The doctor's soft voice easily carried his concern and subtle authority.
"Why's he getting worse?" Rodney asked not liking the idea that he didn't understand something that was happening right next to him and might very honestly start happening to him soon. That was not good, not good at all especially looking at Beckett. The man looked horrible.
The doctor merely held up a hand silently asking for patience as he auscultated Beckett's chest.
Carson attempted to push the hands away, but his movements were feeble and uncoordinated at best.
The doctor gently deflected the haphazardly moving hands and placed a restraining hand on Beckett's shoulder as Carson tried to roll away.
"McKay going to get this too?" Sheppard asked. He hoped not.
Rodney paled at the thought, stared at Beckett and then back to the doctor. The doctor didn't register the conversation and simply fitted the bell of the stethoscope over different areas of his patient's chest listening to the snapping close and rushing sounds of blood shooting through his patient's heart valves.
"Oh God, I'm going to get this aren't I?" Rodney flopped back onto his bed, careful of his arm. "Oh God, dead man lying here. I'm dead." He rolled his eyes in the direction of Beckett and Dr. "No-Name" and muttered, "Dead man. I'm dead." He paused staring up at the ceiling testing the fingers of his broken arm and cringed at the sharp twinge of pain and muttered, "Oh God, I'm dead." The shot was wearing off. Beckett was not close to being fine and that idiot doctor didn't know he had a pen stuck in his ear. He was a dead man.
The doctor once again held his hand up for silence as he slid the stethoscope to either side of Beckett's chest.
Carson again tried to push the hands away from him.
"Almost done, Carson," the internist quietly reassured.
Sheppard stepped forward to help, but paused.
The physician neatly redirected Beckett's intrusive hands that seemed determined to push him away.
The major appreciated the gentle redirection the doctor employed to avoid confronting or bullying his patient.
Carson was in good hands, despite the whole missing pen thing.
When he was finally finished the Doctor straightened up, removed his stethoscope one handed again and draped it casually around his neck.
"No, Dr. McKay, rest assured you are not going to get this," the Internist reached over and gently pulled Beckett's eyelid back checking the sclera of each eye and what little he could see of the rolled pupils.
Sheppard watched him, recognizing the same checks that Carson did on them when they were under his care. He silently wondered if medical doctors had their own check list of sorts like pilots did before taking off for a mission.
"You sure? McKay was in that little shed when that pink gas started flowing in," Sheppard pointed out.
"According to the reports..." The doctor looked up and met Sheppard and then McKay's eyes before turning his attention to running his hands under and around Beckett's jaw and neck.
Beckett took some exception to this and tried to use his arms and shoulder to escape the touch. "Stop," Beckett mumbled trying unsuccessfully to dissuade the hands from touching him.
"Almost through, Carson." The examining doctor simply worked around the movement.
"...Dr. McKay had the wind knocked out of him when he broke his arm," the physician redirected his conversation back to the other two men as he ran his hands under the back of Carson's neck.
"Quit," Beckett mumbled and rolled away from searching hands which bent his neck slightly.
"Is there a point here?" McKay stated, feeling slightly insulted but not sure why.
Sheppard snapped his fingers and smiled triumphantly at McKay having figured out the answer before the scientist.
"He sure did, was lying on the ground gasping like a landed fish, wasn't taking in any air at all, not one breath." Sheppard chuckled at McKay's disgusted and woefully defiant glare.
"Doesn't explain why Carson's getting worse," Rodney snared up at Sheppard while directing his question to the doctor. He'd have figured it out. It was the lingering effects of the strong narcotics Beckett had given him earlier when he set Rodney's arm that were interfering with his thought processes. Then there was that horrible shot with the potential 14g pig bleeding needle to his hip--that hadn't help his mental acuity at all.
The internist watched the other two men for a moment as he pressed his hands lightly over Beckett's abdomen.
Carson tolerated that no better than the chest auscultation or lymph node palpation and once again swatted ineffectively at the hands that pressed on specific areas of his abdomen.
"Alright, we're through, Carson."
The doctor slowly straightened up, gently catching one of Beckett's wrists and slid his hand into Beckett's as he placed it back on the bedside. He held his patients forearm and hand for just a moment as if trying to convey a sense of strength or perhaps security in a situation which stripped one of such things.
Sheppard could appreciate the gesture and understood the loyalty and devotion Beckett garnered from his people without trying.
"The two predominant chemicals in the gas, though slightly altered work amazingly similar to those found in the human body. They work synergistically in most cases, though not always, and constantly initiate more broad reaching pathways which can, and in this case do, cause systemic effects, which are often opposing as well as synergistic. Each one initiates and/or feedbacks and/or inhibits other pathways, other loops, reaching further and causing more changes. They have quite far reaching and extremely potent effects, as you can see," the physician said, looking again to Rodney and Sheppard.
McKay and Sheppard continue to stare as if stuck on pause.
He sighed and tried to find a playing field that all would understand, "Think of it as amplification loops, Dr. McKay, redundancy pathways---some faster than others---some short acting, others longer acting and always initiating other pathways and loops. Some shut things 'off,' others turn them 'on' while others just make things blink."
"Yes, yes, yes, stop please," McKay begged. "I get it, I get it. Just stop." Rodney sighed and gave the Doctor a pointed look, "He sucked in the bad stuff, I didn't, and now he's getting worse, and I won't. That's all you had to say." Rodney waved his good hand in a dismissive manner shaking his head.
Sheppard smirked at Rodney and then turned his attention back to the internist.
"Doc, he was in there for only a few seconds," Sheppard pointed out, enjoying the look of disgust on Rodney's face.
"Dr. Beckett described it as a sweet smelling gas." Again he was met with blank stares.
With a patient nod of his head he continued, "It's sweet so that a person would inhale it deeper into their lungs, instinctively take a deeper breath, almost guaranteeing a hefty dose." The doctor pulled the blanket up around Carson's midsection.
Carson immediately started trying to push it away.
"His blood stream is loaded with it, but luckily his lungs are clear." The Doctor paused in thought, "It's actually quite lucky because if these worked exactly as our own, at such a high dose he would most assuredly die."
"If they were the same, you could have treated him," McKay pointed out.
"Perhaps saved his life, yes, but not without some significant damage to his lungs and vasculature and accompanying other organ systems, like renal, nervous system and the such."
"Oh." Sheppard answered.
"If you will excuse me, I must finish my rounds," The doctor gathered his binder, searched for his pen patting his ears first.
"Your pocket, Doc, you put it in your pocket," Sheppard pointed out.
McKay settled back in his bed with another discouraged whine.
"Ahh, yes, thank you, Major," The internist tucked the binder under his arm and looked to McKay, "Get some rest Dr. McKay. Carson, here, would be upset with us if he found you unwell." He headed for the curtained exit but was brought up short by Rodney's question.
"Is he okay?"
The doctor sighed tiredly, hopefully with these two here, keeping Carson company, he could catch a few hours of shut eye.
"He's sick, Dr. McKay," The doctor turned his own gaze to Beckett who continued to shift restlessly. The high fever and muscle aches kept him from truly resting, "uncomfortably, and woefully sick."
"Gee thanks," McKay muttered, clearly expressing what a big help that observation was.
"When's he going to start to get better?" the major asked.
"He'll get a little worse before he turns the corner." The doctor stared at Carson again, almost feeling the man's pain, as Carson yet again, tugged at his scrub shirt and tried to twist away from it.
"He's not sweating," Sheppard pointed out.
"He won't until the fever breaks," the doctor responded. "Good night gentlemen, and really try not to worry." With that the doctor was gone.
"Voodoo," McKay muttered.
——————————————————————
TBC