This was another fic that grew from a homework assignment over at SGALabRats. It wound up touching on the "events" of the previous posting, so I figured it might enjoy its new home here. There is another assignment out there waiting for completion- will hafta see if it fits in with the rest of the family.
"This is Weir."
"Aye, Elizabeth. I have a wee bit of a situation down here. Could I ask you to join me in the infirmary?"
"On my way, Carson."
"There you go, Dr. Kavanagh, I told you I would address this situation with Dr. Weir, and I have. Now may I please see your hand?"
"Fine."
"Great," Carson said with an exasperated sigh and a wave towards a nearby exam table.
Kavanagh stalked over and made an unathletic jump up the few inches of distance from his ass to the table top, fidgeting on the paper covering as he held his right hand in his left.
Carson unwrapped the bloody piece of fabric that wrapped the hand, making tsking noises as he saw the cut; it couldn't have been more than a few centimeters long and had already stopped bleeding.
"You see what happens when I'm forced to work with sub par equipment?" Kavanagh huffed. "A sharp shard of plastic stuck up from the handle of one of those cheap ass things that pass for screwdrivers. And I ask you? I'm an engineer. Why am I being forced into manual labor? Don't we have people who do this sort of thing?"
Carson turned his head before his patient could see him roll his eyes, busying himself with the tray his nurse wheeled over.
The nurse saw his look and smiled, quickly turning on her heel and finding something more interesting to work on in the opposite end of the infirmary.
"Aye, Lass, I don't blame you," Carson muttered under his breath.
"What was that, Beckett?"
"Nothing, Dr. Kavanagh. Just thanking the nurse for bringing me my instruments."
"Instruments. Ha. If they're as rudimentary and primitive as the tools I have to work with, gangrene will probably set in."
"Now see here. All of my instruments are sterilized and I'll have no talk of gangrene here, thank you. Three stitches and you'll be on your way, Dr. Kavanagh." And none too soon…
"I think you'll find three will hardly be adequate in order to enclose a wound of this size, Beckett. And it's deep. Very deep."
"Oh, aye, Lad. It's deep," Carson said tiredly. He cast an eye over to the nearby beds where two team members from the last off world mission lay. They had run into a lizard creature, the monster dispatched at the last possible second before the men were chomped to death. Sheppard's Hail Mary throw of a chunk of C4 had taken care of the lizard thing, but the nearby structure threw off deadly shards of shrapnel, piercing exposed limbs, a particularly good-sized sliver still stuck in McKay's thigh when they gated back. A rusty metal hinge had embedded itself in the Colonel's shoulder and another had sliced across his cheek. Lad was fortunate he didn't lose an eye, bloody lucky fool.
"Dr. Beckett, are you listening?"
"Oh, yes. Of course I was. You were explaining to me about the need for an OSHA representative."
"Exactly. I mean, how hard could it be to send one out on the Daedalus? This is a work environment- a particularly unsafe and unhealthy work environment. I think Atlantis could use a thorough review and audit from a government administrator. Someone- Ow!"
"Sorry, lad. The Novocain pinches a wee bit."
"Pinches? You stuck a needle in my hand!"
"Aye, and if I hadn't given you the local, you'd have felt the stitches. Thought this was a better alternative."
"When is Weir getting here? If she thinks she can avoid this situation and allow--"
"I'm not avoiding anything, Dr. Kavanagh. It does take a few minutes to make it from my office to the infirmary. Now. What can I do for you, doctor?"
"Well, as I was explaining to Dr. Beckett, I feel very strongly that if we are all to continue working under such hazardous conditions that more attention should be paid to safety regulations, and making sure the equipment we work with is up to code."
"I see. So you would like more governmental intrusion because you feel your work here, within the city of Atlantis," she said, hands out to encompass the clean, sterile, technologically way advanced infirmary, "is too hazardous?"
"Precisely," Kavanagh said with a short nod and a patronizing smile as if proud of her for grasping his complex explanation.
"Kavanagh…" Elizabeth stopped herself and placed her hands on her hips. With a short exasperated breath she blew away an encroaching bang from her forehead. "Dr. Kavanagh… you do understand that this is the Pegasus Galaxy, not our Milky Way, and that this is certainly not Washington DC. You signed up for this mission with the understanding that we would be dealing with Ancient technology, with people from other worlds, and with potentially less than stellar accommodations. I believe that Atlantis is the safest environment one could find in any galaxythe Ancients built in multiple safeguards, and their technology, light years ahead of our own, has been nothing short of a wonder and a blessing. And perhaps you could check your equipment more thoroughly before using it."
"Dr. We---"
"--and if you continue to feel that Atlantis is hazardous to your health, feel free to return on the next Daedalus flight out."
Carson quickly smoothed in, attempting to hold back the retort poised on Kavanagh's thin lips. "There we go, lad. All fixed up. You may find it a bit tender to be working with, as you're right handed. I could write you off duty for a few days…"
"I'm ambidextrous, thank you, Dr. Beckett." Then realizing what he was saying he quickly gave Carson a smarmy grin. "But I do function better for the detailed work required of me with my right hand."
Beckett raised his eyebrows but gave him a small smile. "That settles it then. Elizabeth? Please note Dr. Kavanagh off for the next two days."
Weir turned her head to glance at the blanket-covered bodies nearby. "Of course. Carson? A word, please?"
"Of course. Dr. Kavanagh?" Carson stated, making it plain that the pony-tailed scientist was more than free to go.
"I need a tetanus shot, Beckett. We have no idea what kind of pathogens exist in a ten thousand year old city."
Carson nodded with a sigh. "I'll go get one. Be right back."
Weir and Beckett walked side by side together into the curtained off area that passed for Carson's office. He quickly brought her up to speed on the condition of her two men, assuring her that McKay would be up and complaining tomorrow, albeit on crutches. Sheppard would, of course, be his guest for a few more days, the hinge taking a bigger chunk out of the Colonel's shoulder than he had skin to cover. A graft had been needed and would need a few extra days to heal.
She gave Carson's arm a short squeeze at the good news, her disposition noticeably lighter than when she had first entered the infirmary. She rolled her eyes through the curtain at the bed where Kavanagh waited.
"You'd best get back to your patient, Carson."
"Aye," he said with another sigh. "Looking forward to sticking the needle in that flabby white arse of his."
"His… Carson, um, aren't tetanus shots traditionally given in the arm?"
"Yes, Elizabeth. Yes they are, because of the large gauge of the needle and the larger amount of solution, they tend to hurt like a bugger, so most physicians use the arm. But Kavanagh won't know that. And Lord knows, he's been a bloody pain in the arse to me!"
Weir gave him a smirk. "Have fun, Carson," she said. "And tell Kavanagh to turn the other cheek."