Touched By An Ancient
By Ann3
Writer's Note: Awww, thanks so much for the last lot of reviews, and for bearing with me for being so mean !
The good news is that I'm not picking on poor Carson any more for this chapter, or leaving him teetering on the brink of another cliffie. The bad news is that I've decided to torment Rodney a bit instead ;o)
Reference made here to Hide And Seek - just because it's such a wonderful scene ! Hoping, as always, that you enjoy - please let me know if you do !
Chapter Twenty Seven
She was getting used to watching him sleep, happy just to enjoy the contented, peaceful calmness on Carson's face. It may not have had John Sheppard's boyishly rakish charm, but it was a kind face, a gentle face. Where simple, honest expressiveness was concerned, her CMO won that contest, hands down.
In sleep, it was even more so, conveying every thought, every sentiment, of where his subconscious cared to take him. At the moment, a matter of great importance had to be considered from every possible angle – a series of brow-twitching, self debatory frowns providing her with some very welcome amusement.
As the debate continued, it became harder and harder for her to contain a rising swell of laughter – especially when John Sheppard put forward his own rueful theory over its likeliest content.
"Whatever he's dreaming about, you can bet it involves me, a very big needle… and a lot of pain…"
"Well, if you will insist on landing yourself in here so often…" Elizabeth shot back just as dryly, allowing herself another quiet chuckle of laughter at the 'ha-ha' face which he pulled in response.
Of course, both now soberly realised, there was a more serious side to the peaceful scene before them. For the second time that week, Carson Beckett was experiencing the flip side of life in his Infirmary. Physically and mentally drained from that highly eventful session in the Chair, he'd lain here now for the last nineteen hours in a flat out sleep, oblivious to everything around him.
Still, at least he wasn't glowing this time. That, John dryly reflected, was a definite bonus.
Further poignant reflections drifted through his mind as he continued to study his sleeping friend.
"He's a doctor, John. A medical doctor. He was sent here to treat the injured, and heal the sick, and... damn it, he's a doctor… not some freaky weapons machine we can just plug in when we need him…"
He'd never fuel McKay's already galaxy-sized ego by saying so, of course, but… well, he'd been right. Carson Beckett wasn't a fighter pilot. He wasn't a lab-rat either. He was, first and foremost, a doctor. And, John quietly mused, finally allowing himself a duly proud smile, he was a damn good one at that.
Each in their own way, they'd both been guilty of turning Carson Beckett into something he wasn't. It had taken some very special intervention, not just once but twice, to repair and reverse the damage.
Now, at last, the awesome burden of guarding the galaxy had been lifted from Carson's shoulders, shared around a bit more fairly – leaving their brilliant, irreplaceable, one-of-a-kind CMO free to get back to what he did best.
Being a doctor. Healing the sick. Treating the injured. Dealing with a certain hyper-hypochondriac.
In his absence, that last, seemingly impossible task fell to Kate Buchanan. And boy, did she know it.
"For the last time, Rodney, you have a wee paper cut… a paper cut does not need a bloody bandage…! And for God's sake, keep your voice down…! Carson's still asleep, and if you dare wake him…"
"There'll be real bloodshed… all of it Rodney's…" John grinned to a quietly chuckling Elizabeth – both enjoying this exchange too much to notice a blearily indignant blue eye slowly crank itself open.
It was going to take something special to bring Rodney McKay to his no doubt blood-starved senses. Carson Beckett now managed it with just a handful of exasperated, exquisitely Beckett-ish words.
"R'dn'y…? For God's sake, ye big Jessie, leave ma poor bloody staff in peace…"
Slurred with sleep, the charmingly soft burr had thickened into barely coherent, broadest Glaswegian. But the affectionate insult it had conveyed, however hard to follow, was pure Carson Beckett – just as the suspiciously twitchy, baleful scowl which answered it was one hundred percent Rodney McKay.
If truth be told, Elizabeth didn't know which of these two priceless expressions amused her more. She knew one thing, though, as she and Kate shared a wry glance of kindred long sufferance. After nearly three weeks of traumatic upheaval, life on Atlantis had, at last, just got back to normal.
"Oh, that's just great…" McKay finally spluttered in what, to him, was fully justified outrage. "I mean, way to go on the expert diagnosis, Carson…! You haven't even looked at it…!"
Duly obliging, for all of two seconds, Carson then closed his eyes again, curling back under the covers.
"Pa'er cut…" he mumbled, completing his diagnosis from deep within a safe huddle of bedclothes. "Bed rest… plen'y of fluids… hot sweet tea to count'ract shock… now bugger off…!"
"Yeah, that's good advice, Rodney…" John chipped in, taking full advantage of McKay's gaping silence. "I mean, with all this excitement and trauma and blood loss to cope with, you might faint again…"
As the inevitable snarky protests broke out around her, Elizabeth could only smile and ruefully shake her head.
Of course, that really rather depended on your definition of 'normal'.