The Walking Wounded
A Stargate Atlantis story by Deana Lisi
Disclaimer: I don't own any SGA characters.

Tag to the episode, 'Condemned'.

Just a little tidbit to tide you over until my next chapter to 'For the Children' comes out! (I wonder if I should change the name of that story...any opinions?)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are we done, doc?"

"Aye," said Carson.

Relieved, John jumped off the infirmary bed, but stumbled with his right leg, automatically rubbing his knee.

Carson watched, frowning. "What's this, now? What've ya done ta yer leg, and why didn' ya tell me?"

John shook his head. "It's nothing, I just whacked it. Wasn't worth mentioning," he said, walking towards the door.

"Oh no ya don't," said Carson, striding over and grabbing his arm. "I never know when yer tellin' me the truth, lad, so yer gonna show me."

With a sigh, John had no choice but to submit, sitting on the bed again. He pulled up his pant leg to display the damage, not even knowing himself how it looked.

All he knew was that it hurt.

Boy did he feel dumb. Watching Teyla break that stick over her knee with such ease, he never expected to hurt himself—and not even break the stick!—when he tried it.

Exposing his knee, he heard Carson tsk. There was an ugly purple bruise covering it.

The doctor poked it, making sure the kneecap was still in its proper place. There was a little bit of swelling, so he said, "I'll get ya an ice pack. What did ya whack it on? Strange shape."

Indeed it was. Long and thin, horizontally covering his knee.

More like, what did I whack it with. "Uh," he answered. "Dunno."

Carson came back and studied it again. "Humm, looks like someone smacked it with a stick," he said, placing the ice pack over the bruise.

John said nothing; through he frowned and looked at the doc. Does he somehow know? Nah, that'd be impossible.

Carson went about his business, putting things away. "Is there anythin' else that ya haven' told me?"

"No, nothing else."

"Humm," Carson said, as if not sure whether or not to believe him.

A short time later, John removed the pack, which was starting to melt. "You can have this back now, I'm good."

Carson came back over and looked at his knee. "All right. If I were ya, I wouldn't go runnin' tomorrow."

John frowned as he got off the bed and started towards the door. He liked running.

"Next time, try breakin' a thinner stick," Carson said, just as John reached the door.

The Colonel stopped dead, stunned. "What?!"

"Yer not the only one ta get a bruised knee today." Carson said, with a smirk. "The only difference is that Teyla succeeded in breaking her stick!"

John turned and looked at him, mouth open in shock. A second later though, his pride returned, and he walked—or rather, limped—forward, pointing his finger. "Not a word!"

Carson's smile disappeared and he became serious, raising both arms in submission. "Wouldn't dream of it, Colonel. Doctor-patient confidentiality, an' all that."

"Right," said John. He stared at him for a few seconds more as an intimidation factor, before turning and walking towards the door. As it opened, he glanced at Carson over his shoulder as he left.

When the doors closed behind him, Carson couldn't help but laugh. What I would give ta have seen that! he thought.

THE END