Faith

By Flossy

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fan fiction, and as such is for fan enjoyment only. All recognizable characters/settings are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is made.  I’m afraid that despite wishing that I did, I don’t own these characters.  Not even my muses’ voodoo could make them mine (and believe me, they used a LOT of chicken blood and other such occult doodads), nor could my militant blue badgers.  DO NOT MESS WITH THE BADGERS.  Still, I suppose that having the boys out on loan for a while is better than nothing…

Summary: Rodney and John get back to Atlantis to find a very irate Scotsman waiting for them… and he has an awfully large needle…

Central Character(s): Rodney and John, with Carson.

Category (ies): Humour, friendship, episode tag.

Placement: Season One.

Rating:PG.

Spoilers: ‘Suspicion‘.

Author’s Note: The next in my ‘Aftermath’ series.  The boys were awfully close to that explosion, weren’t they?  I did toy with doing something with Teyla and Elizabeth, but that all seemed to resolve itself quite nicely so I opted for my usual back up plan – beating on my two favourite lads… Mwahahahahaaaah…

_____________________________________________________________________Dr Rodney McKay groaned as he sank down on the stool in his lab.  Not twenty minutes ago, he had almost been blown to smithereens when that Wraith drone had decided to play suicide bomber, and he was starting to feel the effects of his rough landing.  His head pounded unmercifully, but his ears had finally stopped ringing and his vision wasn’t blurred any more.  His ribs hurt, but he figured it was just bruising – hardly worth troubling Carson with it. 

In fact, both he and Major John Sheppard were trying very hard to avoid their post mission check ups – the Scotsman had finally gotten wind of their plan and to say he was a tad vexed would be an understatement.  When you added that to the fact that he was still annoyed with the pilot for his earlier escape after his encounter with the stunner, it equalled one very dangerous, very angry man with an intimate knowledge of human anatomy.

“Hey, McKay,” called a familiar, laid back voice.  Talk of the devil…

Rodney turned gingerly, unable to suppress the wince as his ribs protested loudly.  “Ah, Major.  What can I do for you?”

Sheppard limped into the lab, trying and failing to mask it as a manly swagger.  “I was just wondering if you’d been down to the infirmary yet.”

McKay shook his head.  “Not as such,” he confessed.  “I don’t really want to have to deal with Carson blowing a fuse once he finds out we nearly got blown up.”

“Thought so.”

“Is that the reason you’re hiding as well?” asked the physicist innocently.  “Or is it because you’re afraid he’ll stick you with one of his needles?”

“Hey,” John said, “I’m not afraid of a little needle.”

McKay snorted a laugh and groaned out loud. 

Sheppard was by his side in a flash.  “Rodney,” he said quietly.  “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” McKay said, his voice and features tight with pain.

“Yeah, right, buddy,” John replied, totally unconvinced.  “What hurts?  And don’t forget, I know when you’re lying.  Your eye twitches.”

Rodney seriously considered telling the pilot where he could stick it, but knew that his avoidance tactics weren’t going to work.  “I, uh, I think I bruised my ribs.”

“Let me see.”

Pain and annoyance went to war and annoyance kicked pain’s proverbial ass.  “What?  No way!  I’m not taking my top off in front of you!”  He gave his team-mate a crooked grin.  “You’re not my type.”

“Cute, Rodney,” Sheppard replied.  “Just take it off.”

“No!”

“McKay!” John barked.

With a sigh, McKay relented and gingerly lifted his shirt to reveal a band of ugly looking bruises across his upper torso and abdomen.

“Jesus, Rodney,” John breathed.  He reached out and gently prodded the area, stopping when the Canadian choked back a scream and went white.  “Come on, buddy, we’re off to see the doc.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Carson Beckett growled as he saw his two friends limp into the infirmary.  About bloody time! He thought to himself.  Out loud he said, “Where the hell have you two been?”

“Sorry ‘bout that, doc, but we had to secure Steve,” John told him, looking guilty as sin.

The Scotsman was about to rip them a new one when he saw the state of Rodney.  Moving quickly, he hoisted the Canadian’s arm across his shoulder, helping the pilot to support him.  “What the hell have you done to yourself, son?” he asked softly.

McKay just gave a quiet groan, blinking furiously as sweat dribbled down into his eyes.

“I think he’s busted a couple of ribs,” John said.  “I had a look and his chest’s a mess.  He almost fainted when I touched him.”

“How many… times?  I don’t… faint… I pass out… manfully,” Rodney managed to gasp. 

“Yeah, yeah, McKay,” Sheppard replied, but Carson could see the concern etched on his boyish features.

“How did it happen, Rodney?”

“Drone… self-destructed…”

Beckett mouth narrowed into a dangerously thin line, but his doctoral instincts kicked in at the haggard state his friend was in before he managed to perform his very own self destruct.  “Okay, lad, let’s get you under a scanner…”

John knew that they were both in big trouble.

_____________________________________________________________________Thirty minutes later, Rodney had been admitted to the infirmary.  The scans had revealed that his ribs weren’t just bruised – he’d broken three and nearly punctured a lung.  John was in no better condition.  The Major had two broken ribs and a torn ligament in his left knee.  Both men were going to be Carson’s guests for a little while, and neither of them was happy about it.

“I can rest just fine in my quarters, doc,” John tried.  “Please?  I’ll be a good little major, I promise.”  He was onto the begging stage now, as the wheedling, bribery and pouting had gotten him nowhere.

Carson, however, wasn’t having it.  “You must think me daft, son,” he growled.  “You’re staying here where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Can I… have my laptop… at least?” Rodney tried.  His voice was muffled thanks to the oxygen mask that had been placed securely over his face – his protests had been silenced when Beckett had threatened to send in Bella to give him a sponge bath.  Bella was six foot two and built like a house.  Rumour had it that even Bates was scared of her.

“No.”

“Come on, Carson.  It isn’t… going to kill me…”

The Scotsman wheeled around and fixed his friend with a glare.  “No means no, Rodney.  You’re supposed to be resting.  Knowing you, which, I can assure you, I do, you’ll end up working all night.  That is not what I call resting.”

“But…”

“My decision’s final.”  Carson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  These two were going to be the death of him and no mistake.  “And while you’re here, we need to talk.”

The boys exchanged a worried look and paled visibly.  This was not going to be pretty.

“We have pre and post mission checks for a reason, and it’s not to inconvenience you.  How in God’s name am I supposed to help you if you’re injured and you don’t tell me?  Rodney, you could have been in serious trouble!  If you’d carried on the way you were and Major Sheppard hadn’t walked in when he did, you could have punctured a lung.  And as for you,” he turned to the pilot, “I don’t care if you brought back a bloody man-eating killer haggis, but it does nae mean you get to skip the checks!  Do I make myself clear?”

Throughout Carson tirade, his brogue had become thicker than normal, meaning that both John and Rodney struggled to fully comprehend what he was saying.

“We get… wait a minute,” John said, his forehead creasing in confusion.  “Did you just say a ‘man-eating killer haggis’?”

“He did,” Rodney agreed.

“What the hell’s a haggis?”

“It’s a food native… to Scotland,” Rodney began to explain, but stopped abruptly when Beckett let out a strangled scream.

“DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!” he bellowed.

The boys nodded rapidly and mumbled their consent.  No one had really seen Carson lose his temper.  It rarely happened, but when it did, the results were truly terrifying.

“Good.  Now stay there for a minute.”  He stalked off, muttering under his breath.

“We’re so dead,” Rodney whispered.

“Nah,” John replied.  “Carson’s got a moral and ethical code to conduct himself by.”
“You mean… the Hippocratic Oath?”

“That’s the bunny.”

“Somehow, I don’t think… that’ll help much.”

Carson re-appeared on the horizon and the chatter ceased immediately.  Both men seemed to be doing their best to appear sheepish, apologetic and chastised, and Beckett had to bite his lip to stop the laughter.  “You both need antibiotics,” he announced.

“Why?” asked John, seemingly oblivious to the danger he and Rodney were in.

“Because the Wraith self destructed.”

“We already know… that,” McKay hissed.

“Aye, but, you daft bugger, it did nae just vaporise like on Star Trek.  It was reduced to minute particles, some of which were probably airborne.  There’s a good chance you both inhaled a fair amount of dead Wraith.”

They looked visibly sickened.

“That’s just so not right,” Sheppard moaned.  “God, not nice.”

“I think… I think I’m… going to be sick,” McKay mumbled, turning even whiter still.

“So you see the need for the antibiotics, then?” Carson asked with an evil smile.

“Yeah, doc,” John answered, glancing worriedly at Rodney, who was swallowing heavily.  “Hey,” he said, brightening as he had a sudden brainwave, “we’re both hooked up to IVs!”

“So?” asked Rodney.

“So we don’t have to have an injection!”

“Coward,” the scientist muttered weakly.

“Oh, but you do, I’m afraid,” Beckett told them.  A very large bore needle appeared in his hand as if by magic, and he couldn’t help the small chuckle as John audibly squeaked in fear.

“Told you so,” McKay grumbled.

“So then,” Carson said brightly, knowing that they were about to be taught a lesson that they wouldn’t forget in a hurry.  “Who wants to go first?” 

FIN