mayachain

Title: Anchors Cast
Characters: Richard Woolsey, Team, Carson Beckett
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1540
Summary: There are certain things that happen when a Gate Team member is in the infirmary.
Notes: finished by the grace of

mini_wrimo!

The first time he woke up, Richard was in too much pain to notice anything else, much less recall what had brought him into this situation. He was vaguely aware of voices, the shape of a reaching arm, a feeling of relief that spread through his veins. Then nothing.

In a direct contradiction to Carson’s comments on the matter, Dr. McKay claimed he was not a difficult patient. He “only” needed his iPod on those occasions when he was too out of it to even think. Only one or two laptops and a radio connection to the labs for when Dr. Keller, Dr. Beckett or Dr. Biro were “just too stingy” to let him out to do “some proper work” yet. A steady supply of coffee, though if they really insisted then some of the cinnamon-y Athosian tea would do. Dr. Zelenka to keep an eye on the labs and someone from his team to check in on him from time to time.

In his own words, Dr. McKay as a patient was fairly self-contained. Richard could not even refute the claim because he had had ample opportunity for comparison with the rest of AR-1.

He was no longer in the last place he remembered, which was probably a good thing. The natives had been hospitable and friendly up until they were... no... maybe they had been, his recollection was not altogether clear. There had been… factions? Three groups from three different planets that had been Culled, congregating on… P... PX…. No. There was no need to come up with the exact address right now. It would come to him when he felt better and if not, Amelia would know.

Three peoples trying to survive as one. One of the factions – possibly a faction of the faction – had not been pleased at the sight of Lanteans.

It appeared that he had made it back to Atlantis, though.

On the rare occasions when Specialist Dex was confined to the infirmary, AR-1 had obviously learned to make sure there was enough food and a number of action movies to keep the man distracted until Dr. Keller let the Colonel spring him. On rarer occasions still when it was Ms. Emmagen, they made a point of never leaving her alone. For all that she maintained that she was perfectly fine, Richard eventually surmised that both she and Dex required the presence of someone they trusted to fully let themselves relax and heal. The only real difference that Richard could observe was that Ms. Emmagen was not easily appeased by movies.

Instead, the team had taken to tell her stories, preferably from their childhoods, and to nudge her to tell stories of her own childhood in return. Richard had never been allowed - nor had had he wanted - to stay to hear specifics. However, during dinner two months into their then-seemingly unending stay on Earth, Dr. McKay had confided that he had once learned more about Dex’ family life than he had in the three years prior.

Richard did not have to be there to imagine that Col. Sheppard tended to keep his stories away from the topic of his family, referencing only the occasional classmate or childhood friend. Whenever Richard had come upon the two of them, Ms. Emmagen smiled regardless, as if she could hear something the Colonel wasn’t saying.

Dr. McKay had told Richard that he seemed to have more happy memories of himself and Mrs. Miller as kids than he ever would have thought.

The rustling of clothes and the steady beeping of a monitor were the only audible sounds in the room. Richard drifted, caught between undecided wakefulness and sleep, trying to grasp the occasional thought.

Someone had shot at him. It had hardly been the first time it had happened – there was a reason Richard did not leave Atlantis often. It had been the first time a bullet – or had it been an arrow? If so, had it been poisoned? – had hit him.

Col. Sheppard was the least talkative of them all. He was not quite as bad a patient as Dex was, but he came close. He would be tight and withdrawn, angry, lying in bed and require what seemed to Richard like twice of Dr. Keller’s usual dose of drugs to let go. He was rational enough about it. Admittedly, he was willing to stay in bed longer than Dr. McKay for the sake of his recovery unless there was some emergency – but he hated any minute of it and wanted only to leave.

Having the whole team surround him while he slept was apparently the only thing that helped. Dr. Beckett had said that Dr. McKay and Ms. Emmagen and Lt. Ford had discovered this early on and had since done it as consistently as humanly possible.

The nurses had long since stopped trying to persuade them to leave. Richard had heard them turn scathingly vocal if one of the visitors got in their way, but as long as the respective patient was less upset and they could do their jobs, any team members slouching on the semi-comfortable chairs the infirmary had to offer were easily ignored. Ms. Emmagen had admitted that it was quite a relief to think that if one of them would suddenly find Col. Sheppard – or Dex, or Dr. McKay, or Ms. Emmagen herself – all alone, Dr. Keller’s staff would know how to contact someone because something would clearly be very, very wrong.

An arrow, or a bullet, had been taken out of his… where had he been hit, even? Nothing hurt, he could not even localize the injury by pain.

He was beyond weak, though. The fatigue seemed bone-deep. Only during his final law school exams had he ever felt this… done in. Since then he had always managed to take care of himself enough to function.

Now that he thought about it, he might have edged near a time or two when a threat had been, well, threatening the expedition.

Damn the drugs for working. He usually prided himself on a much better grasp on his vocabulary than this.

When Richard had taken over as leader of the Atlantis expedition and had found his footing enough to pay attention to gate teams other than his primary one, he had observed similar patterns of behavior in Major Lorne's team. The specifics were different, but that was only relevant to the five people involved and otherwise not important.

He hoped nobody else had been injured. Richard knew he ought to rouse himself to confirm either way, but he could not seem to make his mouth form words, much less lift his head.

Two marines had been acting as his personal bodyguards. It had been four the first time Richard had gone through the ‘gate. He did not know if it was cause for relief or dread that John almost certainly would now revert back to that number.

From careful consideration of her reports Richard had learned that Dr. Weir had never fully understood the practice but let it go on regardless, had supported it because, and those were her indulgent if exasperated words, “less cranky patients mean less cranky doctors mean less cranky staff and all around less crankiness.” Samantha Carter had known the necessity of Team companionship in her bones. Before his permanent posting on Atlantis, Richard would not have understood it at all, but according to Major Teldy the same could be said about Dr. McKay.

A new team was considered having become a Team when one of the members was laid up in the infirmary and the others showed signs of having trouble falling asleep in their own quarters because being there felt wrong.

A hand appeared in front of his blurry vision and held something close to his mouth. Recognizing the shape of a straw, he gratefully sucked a few sips of water. Was it a good sign, that he was allowed water instead of ice chips? Too tired to make out the identity of the person holding the straw or the meaning of the murmurs he could hear in the background, he let himself sink back into sleep.

Dr. McKay had readily admitted that he did not quite comprehend it. He rarely minded the company and would feel disturbed if the others withheld it, but for all that he equated medicine with voodoo instead of science, he swore that he had always felt safe in Dr. Beckett’s – and later Dr. Keller’s – infirmary.

The next time he surfaced, Richard felt more like himself. Judging by the numbness in his lower abdomen he would stay confined to this bed for some time yet, but Richard guesstimated himself up to investigating his surroundings this time.

Every time he had woken up – had it been three times or had earlier ones slipped his mind? – someone had been there. Someone besides Marie Ko, whose voice he now recognized, who he could hear talking to someone he did not think was Jennifer.

It was difficult to picture Chuck in the infirmary. Amelia might feel obligated to come by, but Richard knew she hated sitting still for long.

Maybe he could ask the visitor to call for AR-1 and then stay conscious long enough to hear their report.