"So let me get this straight," Carson said slowly. He glanced sideways at John before returning his gaze to the file he was taking notes in. "You want my help to pry--"

"Investigate."

"--pry into our commander-and-chief's personal life."

"Hey, the president she ain't."

"I'll tell her you said that," Carson promised with a sly smile.

"Can you all discuss this when I'm not dying?" Carson's patient complained.

Usually John would have been annoyed but today he was impressed. Although Rodney was slurring his words due to a large amount of painkillers, he still managed a sneer.

"Stop blubbering," Carson said, half-heartedly. "You'll live, God help us."

John admitted that he was relieved by Beckett's prognosis--Rodney wasn't looking so well. An hour ago, there had been a explosion in one of the labs--small, contained, but McKay had taken the brunt of it. He had been thrown into a table full of equipment. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises and his left wrist was broken in two places. Beckett had promised that the cuts looked worse than they were with only one gash on McKay's forehead requiring stitches. The wrist had to be set and put in a plaster cast, though, and was now resting not-so-comfortably. Consequently, Rodney was drugged six ways from Wednesday.

"He'll be here overnight," Carson told John quietly. "If there are no complications, he should be up and making trouble by tomorrow. He'll have a handsome scar on that forehead of his, tho'."

"Good to know," John said, striving for a sarcastic tone, but he was sincere in his concern for McKay's well-being, especially when the scientist looked like he had gotten the crap kicked out of him. As Beckett had pointed out when Rodney was brought in, it could have been much worse; it might not have been just his clothes that had gotten singed, and he had no internal injuries despite being thrown a good five feet. But that was not what had initially brought John to see Beckett. "Back to the subject at hand--"

"Don't mention hands," Rodney moaned before finally succumbing to the sedatives.

"Oh, thank God," Carson breathed, scrubbing a hand over his face before collapsing into the chair next to McKay's bed. He stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle. "A'right, Colonel, what mischief are ye about this time?"

"I'd be offended if it wasn't true," John grinned cheerfully. He decided to cut right to the chase and hope for the best. "I think Dr. Weir is hiding something and I want to know what it is."

"Since when did you become that nosy?" Carson asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Since we rid the galaxy of evil," John replied with a flourish. He found Carson watching him with an expression that was remarkably similar to Teyla's "stop bull-shitting me" look. "Okay, fine, since we got a whole lot better at hiding from evil. Besides, I finished my book."

"Then get a new one, lad," Carson said. "Believe me when I say it's a lot safer for everyone involved."

"So you're not going to help us?"

"I never said that; I just feel that, as your physician, it's my duty t' point out the health risks."

"Like if Weir drop kicks my ass through a wall, you mean."

"Something like that, yes."

John pretended to think about it before he grinned unrepentantly and rubbed his hands together. "Then she'd best not find out."

"Who'd best not find out about what?" asked a gut-dropping voice from the doorway.

John whirled around but Carson just peered over his shoulder at the doorway.

"Ah, Dr. Weir," he said. "Come to check on the patient?"

Elizabeth moved to stand at the foot of McKay's bed. "Yes. How is he?"

"Lucky. I'll keep him on pain medication as he needs it. He'll be using a sling for awhile and the cast'll be on for six weeks or so."

Elizabeth's expression was rueful. "Rodney will love that."

"Rodney won't have a choice," Beckett responded shortly. He looked over at McKay's sleeping form and sighed. "Have they figured out what happened yet?"

She shook her head. "I have Zelenka, Morris, and Asbury working on it now."

Carson pointed at Sheppard with uncharacteristic fierceness. "You and McKay pretend as though you have more lives than cats, but sooner or later that luck you seem to rely on is going to run out." He rubbed his eyes. "It would do my heart a world of good if you two would at least attempt to be more careful."

John sputtered a bit but couldn't really deny that he and McKay did end up in Beckett's care a lot.

"I hardly think the Rodney did this on purpose," Dr. Weir pointed out with raised eyebrows.

Carson smiled a little. "No, I'm sure not but that doesn't change the fact that Rodney occupies the infirmary beds more than either of us would like."

"Will he sleep for awhile yet?" Elizabeth asked. When Carson nodded, she said, "Then why don't Colonel Sheppard and I sit with him while you get some rest?"

Carson hesitated before nodding reluctantly and getting slowly to his feet. He nodded to Elizabeth as he left.

She moved to the chair he had just vacated and settled in.

John glanced at his watch before he said, "I have to meet Teyla for our sparring practice but I'll come back when I'm done." He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "I might even bring you some coffee."

Elizabeth smiled behind steepled fingers. "My, aren't we the sweet talker."

John grinned and wiggled his fingers at her in a little wave as he left.

A/N: Sorry I've been so long in updating anything. I'm currently working on a very long new fic. I hope to get the first chapter of that out soon. This episode didn't really go anywhere–just a bit of McKay-whumping and false leads (like you all don't know what my fave ships are–but you never do know :) but more will be revealed in the next chapter. Bear with me!