SGA fic: COD (G)
Title: COD
Author: Zinnith
Rating/Category: G
Pairings: Written as gen, but could be read as John/Rodney.
Spoilers: Takes place during S1.
Word Count: 870
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Notes: Written for
sga_flashfic, Cake or Death challenge. This is not quite cake and not quite death.
kimberlyfdrkindly offered to beta. Thank you!
Summary: It was a close call.
Beckett was asleep with his head on his desk. He looked so peaceful that John almost hesitated before he knocked on the open door. The shaggy dark head darted up, revealing a face even more stubbly than usual. He had imprints on his cheek from the keyboard and you could carry home groceries to last you a week in the bags under his eyes.
“Major?” Beckett blinked and shook his head. “Is everything all right?”
John leaned against the door frame like it was perfectly normal for him to pay late-night visits to the infirmary.
“Just fine, doc.” John nodded towards the dim-lit infirmary ward. “How’s he doing?”
“Much better.” The doctor stood up and checked his watch. “We took him off the ventilator a little while ago. He’s resting comfortably now.”
“Good. That’s… good.”
Beckett came around the desk, scratching his neck as he walked. If John had ever seen a doctor in need of a good night’s sleep in his own bed, it was this one. He hated to bother Beckett any more tonight, but still…
“Can I see him?”
“Well, he is asleep at the moment, and I’d prefer he stay that way. I’m afraid the whole ordeal was rather exhausting for him…” Beckett hesitated a little and John put up his best please-just-let-me-see-for-myself-that-my-teammate’s-okay face. It seemed to work on the doctor.
“All right,” Beckett finally relented, “just for a moment, and try not to wake him.”
“Thanks doc, I appreciate it.”
The doctor moved past John, out of the office. “He gave us all quite a scare this time”, Beckett said. John nodded in response.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
John had been spending the past few hours trying desperately to scrub away the image of a choking Rodney from his mind’s eye. One minute Rodney had been sitting next to John in the mess hall, shovelling dessert into his mouth, and the next he had been wheezing from lack of air, bright red in the face.
“What was it?” John asked as he and Beckett silently made their way between the infirmary beds. “The cake?”
It was Dr Simpson’s birthday and the kitchen had served cake for dessert. They had outdone themselves with the ingredients they had been able to scare up, and decorated the thing with some of the purple not-quite-pineapple that Stackhouse’s team had scored in their last trade agreement. Rodney, true to form, had loaded up his tray. He had barely managed to swallow two bites before collapsing to the floor, unable to breathe. John’s heart had still not quite slowed down from the frantic search for the life-saving epi-pen in Rodney’s pocket.
“The fruit on it,” Beckett answered. “Sneaky little bugger, that one. It doesn’t look, taste, or smell anything like citrus, but when we tested it, it came back positive for the same allergen. It’s a good thing it happened here and not off-world, or we might not have been able to save him. It was a close enough call as it was.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t have looked good on the death certificate. Cause of Death: Cake.”
Beckett chuckled. “Aye, but what a way to go!” He was quick to collect himself, however, as the two of them reached Rodney’s bed.
To John, the scientist looked like crap, with an extra helping of crap on the side. The swelling in Rodney’s face and throat had gone down, but he was still pale, and there was an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. He had two IV-lines in him and lay so still in the bed that John had the sudden urge to shake him awake, just to make sure…
“We’ll test all new food from now on,” Beckett said quietly. “Can’t afford anything like this to happen again.” He reached out and patted Rodney’s limp hand. The scientist grunted a little in his sleep, but didn’t move.
John looked around, found a chair, and pulled it up next to the bed. “Do you mind if I stay a while?” he asked, not really prepared to accept a ‘no’. John had been sitting with Teyla and Ford outside the infirmary for hours before one of Beckett’s more frightening nurses had driven them away. After that, there had been even more waiting for Horrible Hilda to go off her shift so John could sneak in and get to know how Rodney was really doing.
“You can stay a little longer”, Beckett said, and then stifled a yawn. “I’m in need of some real sleep, and so are you, Major. Just a bit longer, okay? And try not to wake him.”
“I won’t.” John waved the doctor away. “Night, Carson.”
“Good night,” Beckett replied with a smile before he turned away, shrugging out of his white coat as he walked out of the infirmary.
John sat down and looked around again to make sure there were no spying nurses around. Then he took Rodney’s hand, feeling the strong pulse beat in his wrist. John finally allowed himself to relax a little. Rodney was going to be okay.
Cause of Death: Cake. John had to hold back a laugh of his own. Rodney was never going to hear the end of this.
-fin-