For Your Own Good

SUMMARY: Even doctors get sick every once in a while.

SEASON/SPOILERS: Season One. Very slight mention of "The Eye."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Since John and Rodney get whumped all the time, I decided to give Carson a turn. Gotta be an equal opportunity whumper, after all :). Pointless short fluff piece that stemmed from me not feeling well. I swear I'll write something heavier and with
plot soon, lol.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or anything associated with it. I'm simply borrowing, but I promise to return all in one piece. Eventually.

"You can't be sick!"

"I can be and I am."

"But whose going to fix this?"

Casron sighed. Even part of him ached. His head ached. Even his hair ached. He lay sprawled across one of the beds in the hidden corner of his infirmary with no intentions to move anytime in the near future. He thought he'd found the perfect place to suffer away from any prying eyes. But, nope, Rodney had managed to bypass every single member of his staff to find him, bringing his latest lab inflicted injury to Carson's attention.

"There are other medical doctors in this city, Rodney." He turned his head. Pain and nausea flared. He made a mental note not to do that again. "In fact, you probably passed a couple of them in your quest to find me." He swallowed. The nausea wasn't going away. Frantically he reached out, realizing the basin he grabbed before stationing himself in this corner, would definitely be needed.

"Eww, Carson."

He merely glared at Rodney. Well, glared as well as someone could do while throwing up. He shoved the basin aside as a glance has his stomach threatening to make a repeat performance. Leaning back, he closed his eyes, hoping against hope when he opened them Rodney would be gone and he could continue to suffer in peace for a while.


He sighed. No such luck. He opened his eyes, prepared to tell the physicist to bugger off. Instead he was surprised to see Rodney holding out a glass of water.

"Figured you'd want to rinse out-well, you know." Carson took the glass, grateful for the small gesture and somewhat astonished by it. He took a couple of small sips, hoping it wouldn't come back to haunt him later. Rodney still stood next to the bed, hands at his side, looking unsure of how to proceed from here.

"Rodney, go have someone look at that hand. Dr. Biro relieved me, so she should be around."

Rodney nodded. "She take a look at you?"

"Nothing to look at. I've got the flu." Rodney looked unconvinced. Carson swallowed. That water wasn't sitting too well. He shot up and reached blindly for the basin. Rodney quickly shoved the item into his hands with less then a second to spare.

"Just the flu. Right," Rodney muttered sarcastically and handed the Scottish doctor another glass of water.

Carson sighed and once again resumed his closed eyes leaning back position as he willed his stomach to settle. When he opened his eyes this time, however, Rodney was gone. Peace at last. Maybe now he could try and gather enough strength to attempt the short trek down the hall to his quarters before one of his staff members discovered his hiding place.

"I thought you said you were simply overtired, Dr. Beckett." Crap. Too late. Carson looked up to find Rodney had returned, with Dr. Biro and a nurse in hand.

"Carol, it's just the flu-" he began, but she held up her hand.

"Let me be the judge of that, Carson. And you're the one who requires us to examine anyone presenting any unusual symptoms. 'You never know what you'll pick up in another galaxy' were your words, I believe." She smiled.

He groaned. His orders were coming back to bite him in the bum. He glared at Rodney who was standing conveniently behind Biro, smiling.

"The way I see it, it is payback, my friend." Rodney grinned, and rocked back on the balls of his feet. The injury to his hand seemed forgotten in exchange for the amusement.

"For what?" Surely nothing he'd done warranted this.

"Oh, I don't know, for every time you got a kick out of jabbing something long and pointy into my flesh?" Oh, well, there was that.

"If you stopped injuring yourself, Rodney, I wouldn't have to do such things. Besides, every time was for your own good," he insisted. And they were. He was a professional, after all. Rodney was simply allergy plagued and injury-prone. Besides, the man had no right to complain. For someone who said medicine was akin to voodoo, he certainly sought it out and relied on it quite a bit.

"For your own good. Doctors love that phrase, don't they?" Rodney stopped rocking to look Carson in the eye. "Well, this is for your own good, Carson," Rodney insisted back, his tone light. And although there was definite amusement in his eyes, Carson swore that perhaps he also detected slight concern.

"Enough." Biro had raised her hand up. She turned to the nurse. "Shelly, if you could dress Dr. McKay's hand, I can handle Dr. Beckett." The nurse nodded and Carson saw Rodney peek over at him one more time before following her reluctantly.

"Now," Biro started, reaching for her stethoscope, "I've heard you've been vomiting..." With her other hand, she pulled the privacy curtain partially closed.

Carson groaned again. Despite his chosen profession, he hated being examined, especially when he knew he needed to be. He'd wormed his way out of the infirmary as fast as he could after his adventure with Sora. One thing was for sure, he was going to kill Rodney. He'd show him long and pointy the next time he visited.

His stomach flip-flopped again and he made another made dash for the basin as he dry-heaved.

Okay, maybe when he felt better. He'd kill him when he felt better.