When It Snows (part 13)
It was late and he should be asleep. Being a physician, he knew the dangers of taxing his system less than 36 hours after dangerous exposure to the cold and the ensuing hypothermia. The fact that his body temperature took longer than normal to adjust itself back to a more acceptable level had to have been because of the extended stay out in the cold. Carson remembered little of being under the tree. When Teyla had sat with him during the late afternoon, after Rodney's trip out of bed, she told him the details of what had happened and he still had a hard time believing them. And now, less than a few meters away, the man that had saved him from drowning in the freezing pond lay suffering, and he could do nothing about it…yet.
Patience had never been one of his stronger character traits, and those in his care had at times seen him lose it in his infirmary. Of course, it was usually Rodney's demands that pushed him to his limits.
The soft footsteps that had hovered between the two beds came back to Carson's, a hand pressed against his temple and then his cheek. He felt his blankets moved aside as the nurse's fingers pressed against his wrist to take his pulse, before his covers were draped over him once more. A scratching sound, most likely notes being taken, and then a pat to the shoulder. The comforting voice that had spoken to him off and on all day whispered 'rest'. And moments later the room grew silent except for the wheezing of McKay's breathing and the quiet beeps of the surrounding machinery.
Sleep pulled at him but he pushed it away. He waited a few seconds more to make sure the nurse wasn't on her way back before he cracked open his eyes and took a cautious look at his surroundings. The lights in the room had been dimmed and he knew he needed to be careful as he pushed back his blankets and unhooked his own nasal cannula.
The heart monitor leads tugged at his chest and he turned to inspect the readout on the closest screen. And then he frowned. The sluggish pattern was interrupted at times by an irregular arrhythmia as his heart continued to struggle over his watery ordeal. But at the sound of another rattling cough from the nearby bed, he switched off the machine and then grimaced as he tugged the sticky pads from his chest. Aware of the consequences if a patient in his care did what he was about to do, and knowing that there would be some serious hell to pay, he shoved the thoughts of getting chewed out from his mind. There was work to be done and as far as he could see, no one else had done it.
His bare feet touched the cool floor and it took him a second to adjust to the change in temperature. Hating to leave his warm blankets behind, he squinted as he searched for a lab coat, or possibly another smock he could pull over his head. What looked like a set of cupboards was tucked against the back of the room, so with IV in tow, he slowly made his way over to investigate.
The first was filled with medical paraphernalia, medications, and some smaller pieces of equipment. The second housed blankets, bathing supplies, gowns and booties, and - voila - fresh lab coats. It didn't take long for him to shut off the IV, temporarily unhooking the port as he slipped his arms through the coat, and then reestablishing the line to the back of his hand. A pair of booties tugged over his cold feet, a few items from the supply closet tucked in his pocket, and he was all set to begin.
With small shuffling steps, he made his way over to Rodney's bedside, flipped on the unobtrusive light against the back wall that cast a soft glow over the sleeping man, and got his first good look at his friend since they'd left the village. "Bloody hell," he whispered, taking in the deep flush to McKay's face and the oxygen mask pressed over his nose and mouth. Two separate IV's with unfamiliar labels were hooked overhead and he traced the lines to the inside of a covered arm.
"What did you get in to?" he asked, pulling a syringe and two empty vials from his pocket. "This can't be the virus; you were the first one I inoculated after myself." Carson tapped the crook of the Rodney's other arm, certain he could find the vein in his sleep from having so much prior experience with the still figure. It was watching his own hand tremble that caused him to curse his own weakness. He closed his eyes, focused, and waited for the sensation to stop, before slipping the needle into the vein. Success on the first try.
Rodney's head lolled to the side, his bleary eyes trying to open when he felt the prick of the needle. He blinked several times, the blurry image taking forever to coalesce into a solid figure. "Cars'n?" he whispered in confusion from behind the mask, his breaths fogging the clear apparatus over his face.
"Aye, Rodney. How are you feeling?"
The scientist couldn't keep his eyes open, even though the sight of Carson at his side gave him an odd sense of comfort. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his chest straining for his next breath, "Not too well."
A stethoscope lie on a nearby tray, and Carson snagged it, tucking it in his ears before he pulled back Rodney's blankets and lifted his gown to expose his chest. The sight of his friend's ribs being visible for each breath made him deeply concerned and he listened to the rattle and wheeze in his lungs. "Why don't I help you sit up?" he asked, setting the scope once more on the tray, and then studying the back of the bed in an attempt to see how to raise the head. When he leaned to peer at the underside, the noise in the room began to fade into a low rumble and he closed his eyes while taking a few deep breaths of his own. Now was not the time to pass out.
He didn't know how long he'd stayed that way until he felt Rodney's hand touch the back of his head. A couple of more breaths, and he slowly stood back up, finding the scientist's slit eyes peering in confusion at him. "It's okay; I tried to stand up a little too quickly."
Rodney frowned. "What'z wrong?"
Carson shook his head and tried to give one of his patented glares, "Nothing for you to worry about." Giving up on finding a way to adjust the bed, he took the pillows from his own bed and propped them under Rodney's head and shoulders. Blankets returned to cover the scientist's chest; he stood back, "Are you warm enough?"
"Mm-hm."
Before McKay could slip back asleep, Carson tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention, "Rodney, when did you start to feel poorly? Back on Atlantis?"
"Ummm…no." He coughed and lifted a hand to rub at his face, pushing the mask askew, before Carson settled it right. "Leaving," he mumbled and then sniffed, his short breaths puffing into the mask.
The Atlantis CMO's curiosity piqued and he leaned closer. "Leaving where? The village?"
Rodney nodded, his hand now resting over his chest, clutching at the edge of the blanket.
Carson tried to recall what Rodney had been doing while he and Chal were taking care of the villagers. The scientist had practically disappeared for most of the second day, only to return in the evening in time for dinner. He'd appeared dirty and his clothing disheveled, but his face held the usual smugness that he'd done something that no one else could have. Carson never did get around to asking him just what that was.
"Rodney," he urged, giving the scientist a small shake to the shoulder, "what did you do at the village?" But it was too late, for McKay had slipped back into a deep sleep.
Weariness flooded Carson's own soul and he plopped backwards to sit on a nearby stool, his own legs refusing to hold him up any longer. "What were you doing?" he mumbled, his fingers rolling the vials of blood in his pocket. Plucking them out, he studied the tubes, watching the viscous liquid shift from one end to the other. "What were you doing?" he repeated to himself.
The room surrounding them contained all kinds of equipment; much of it foreign to the physician, but the one thing he did recognize was a an interesting alien microscope that resembled those they'd found on Atlantis. Perhaps, if he could rig an interface with the device to his laptop, he might be able to create a workable diagnostic system that could… Oh, bloody hell, who was he trying to convince, he'd be lucky if he could get the damn thing to work in the first place. But, since, Rodney was out of commission and there wasn't anyone else around to help him, he might as well give it a try. The first thing he needed to do was to find his laptop and pray he didn't pass out from the effort.
SG: A
It took Carson an hour to locate his gear, along with Rodney's, stuffed in a storage bin in the outer hallway. And after rifling through the smelly, damp contents, without getting caught, he successfully located both of their laptops, and his med kit, as well as the scientist's small tool case. Praying that nothing had been damaged by the water, he carried the items back to the small counter with Chal's microscope.
The hunt and recovery wore him out, leaving him face down on the cool surface with his eyes closed. There was no way he'd be able to do this on his own, feeling the way he was currently feeling. His hand slid across the counter and tugged his kit closer, his fingers undoing the clasp and feeling through the items before pulling out a small vial. Peeling his eyes open, he focused on the clear liquid and swallowed.
Only a fool would dose himself with a stimulant in his current condition. But his mind was made up when for him when Rodney shifted on his bed, moaning about ice and crying out for help. Slipping a needle into the rubber stopper, he pulled a small enough amount into the syringe to give himself an edge without causing serious damage. Once the medication flowed through his IV port, he could feel his body react to the increase of adrenalin, and he set to work.
After several tries, he successfully connected Chal's equipment with his own hand held scanner that he'd brought from Atlantis. And once he was able to bring the laptops online, he finally succeeded in processing the samples he'd taken from Rodney.
Different screens displayed the levels of medications in Rodney's system, cell counts showed the internal fight the white blood cells were attempting to rid the system of the invader. Things that equipment back on Earth, doctor's only dreamed about, Carson had command of at his fingertips. The final page confimrmed his diagnosis and he licked his lips before removing several small vials from his kit and loading another syringe. This time it was McKay who was the recipient of a mega dose of broad spectrum antibiotic.
Next, he reset the moist air breathing treatment apparatus. His eyes glued to the monitors, watching for any change in O2 levels or decrease in wheezing, he finally allowed himself to sit when he'd done all that could be done. Sighing deeply, his strength depleted once more, he rested his head on the side of Rodney's bed and allowed himself a moment to gather his thoughts.
He could feel his own heart beating in his chest, an unsteady rhythm that seemed to trip and falter every few beats. Realizing he was in need of assistance, he pushed himself back up and tried to get his feet under him. His legs refused to obey and he began a downward slide to the floor.
Carson's stool clattered noisily behind him as it banged against the hard, cold surface, but he could do nothing about that. His own eyes shifting across the ceiling, he tried to stop the tightness growing in his chest with short breaths. He was a fool, a bloody damn fool, and now he was in serious trouble. Praying that someone would soon come to check on them, he ground his teeth together and curled into a ball.
SG: A
The loud snap caused by sap in the burning wood startled Ronon awake, his eyes instantly alert as he focused his gaze on the occupants of the large room. Sheppard and Teyla were both sleeping in chairs close to his own, both buried under layers of warm blankets. Several other villagers were also scattered throughout the main hall, sleeping away the early morning hours, secure in the knowledge that all were accounted for.
And they were all accounted for, and it made the large man relax back into his chair before he remembered the doctors. Sitting up straight, he settled his feet back on the floor and shoved his blanket away. It wouldn't hurt to look in on Beckett and McKay.
Silently he worked his way out of the room and down the darkened hallway of the lodge, lit only by a few scattered lights left on in various rooms. Seeing more light than the others coming from Beckett's room, he picked up his pace and ducked inside the doorway. What he saw took him momentarily by surprise. For some reason McKay had been moved in with Beckett. And Beckett's bed was empty.
He stepped closer to McKay's bed, and that was when he found the physician on the floor, Carson's blue eyes clenched tight in pain.
"Doc?" he grunted, dropping to the floor, grabbing Beckett by the shoulder.
"Get…help…," Carson panted.
Ronon jumped to his feet and raced for the doorway. "Sheppard!" he yelled, his voice booming through the stillness before he returned. With care seldom witnessed, he pulled the ailing man up off the floor, holding him against his chest, until help arrived.
TBC