A/N: Okay, so it's kind of a short chapter but yay! I updated!
There had been many times over the past year that Jennifer Keller had regretted agreeing to be the head of medicine for the Atlantis expedition, but never did that regret resonate as strongly as when one of the city's flagship team was injured. The responsibility rested most heavily on her shoulders when Sheppard's team came through the 'gate with the term 'casualty' attached to their arrival.
Or so she had thought; but now, as she waited at the foot of the stargate with her team of battle-tested professionals, she realized just how mistaken she'd been. The heart and soul of the expedition was about to become a resident of her infirmary, and she felt the terrifying burden of the task at hand settle into the spot where her scapula and her clavicle converged.
"All right people; look sharp!" she barked as the chevrons started to engage.
The wormhole connected with its usual show of watery fireworks, but Keller didn't have time to enjoy the sight; her whole body was taut with anticipation as she awaited the off-world team.
The expected Jumper suddenly burst from the event horizon and then shuddered to a halt.
As the back hatch lowered, Keller would have sworn that it was doing so more slowly than it had in the past; she'd have to let Zelenka know about it later.
And speaking of genius scientists, there was McKay, a P-90 hanging loosely from his limp fingers. He looked so dejected and mournful that for a moment, she feared the worst. His eyes briefly flickered to meet hers before he turned them back to the semi-darkness of the tiny ship's interior. That was when Keller realized she still had a patient. Her feet started moving of their own accord and she crossed the floor so quickly that her team was left scrabbling to catch up.
The scene that greeted her when she reached the hatch pulled at her heartstrings despite the vaunted professionalism that came with years of practicing medicine. Colonel Sheppard was folded nearly in half; and though his hair, sticking up in more directions than usual, was all she could see, his entire posture was made up of broken lines and bent angles. Curled on the floor with her head in his lap was Elizabeth Weir. Sheppard had her right hand in a death grip and his other hand was nestled in her dark curls, his thumb tracing invisible circles on her forehead in an attempt to erase the creases pain had painted there.
Ronon was hunched up against the wall, his impenetrable eyes fixed on his two leaders, with Teyla's petite form nearly invisible in his shadow. The tall Satedan noticed the doctor's arrival first, and with the lightest of touches alerted his Athosian companion to her presence.
"Dr. Keller," Teyla acknowledged her with the softest of whispers, concern etched in her features.
"How's she doing?" Keller quickly knelt in front in Sheppard, her practiced eye sweeping over both leaders' forms.
"She's been unconscious since I came on board, about ten minutes ago," Lorne emerged from the cockpit.
"Elizabeth's left arm was noticeably dislocated when we found her," Teyla offered, moving to stand near Keller's shoulder, "But with the other injuries we fear she has, we did not attempt to reset it."
Keller nodded tensely; she had noticed the odd twist in Dr. Weir's arm the instant she'd entered the jumper. The only injuries more prevalent were the bruises marring her fair skin and the gurgling hitch the wounded woman's breathing attained every time she inhaled.
"Broken ribs," Sheppard spoke for the first time, seeming to follow her train of thought.
Which means a probable punctured lung and serious surgery, Keller grimaced.
After briefly checking Dr. Weir's spine and neck she turned and started barking out orders, "Adams, Delancy, I need a gurney; Sanchez, radio ahead and have them prep the scanner."
"She's going to be okay, right?" Rodney suddenly appeared in her line of sight, something that looked suspiciously like guilt written on his features.
"We're going to do everything we can," Keller recited the noncommittal answer she'd learned from her days as an intern.
John climbed painfully to his feet as Elizabeth was lifted onto the gurney, his stance making it clear that he had no intention of leaving her side.
Keller sent him a pointed glance, "Don't worry about it Sheppard; you two are going to the same place," she motioned for another gurney to be brought over.
Sheppard's eyes narrowed and she thought she was in for a fight, but all he said was, "I can walk you know."
She quickly placed an oxygen mask over Elizabeth's face and gave the setup a quick once-over, "True, but we both know you'll get to the infirmary faster if we give you a ride."
Sheppard's jaw clenched as he glanced from her to Elizabeth; and Keller knew she had him.
Maybe she'd celebrate later.
"Adams, you and I are going to wheel Dr. Weir to the infirmary. Delancy, you and Gerard take Colonel Sheppard," they started moving before the words were even out of her mouth.
She paused, motioning for her colleagues to keep going, and fixed the rest of the team with her best no-nonsense look, "As for the rest of you, I expect to see you all shortly for your post-mission examinations."
The four pairs of eyes that met hers held varying degrees of agreement, and for the moment that was all she could ask for.
As she hurried to catch up with her patients, Jennifer Keller mentally sighed even as she felt the adrenaline surge through her veins.
After this was all over and Dr. Weir was on the mend—because this isn't going to end any other way, she told herself firmly—maybe she would talk to the head of the expedition again about finding a more suitable head doctor.
Because the weight on her shoulders was now equal to that of the ancient city itself.