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"It's not that bad. Just a few cuts and scrapes." Sheppard hissed as he shifted. He glanced at his tattered pants. "Me and Ford and a few of the boys were just doing a little repelling off a balcony."
The doctor searched through a cabinet and set several items on a tray. "Oh, so this was a military exercise, was it?"
"Not exactly." Sheppard arched his neck as the medical assistant cut off his t-shirt, the cold metal sliding down the middle of his chest. He winced when the assistant peeled the cloth away from his raw bleeding shoulder.
Beckett gave him a puzzled glance and stepped behind the table to begin cleaning the shoulder. "What is 'not exactly' supposed to mean?"
"We were on downtime. Just having some fun."
"Aye. It looks like you had a blast. Did your harness break?"
Sheppard eyed the tray with its vials, hypodermic and suture needles. For a few cuts? "I was … showing Ford how to right yourself if your ropes got tangled, but it didn't quite work. The water was closer than any horizontal surface, so I released and … went for a dip." He pointed to the shoulder Beckett was bandaging. "Got this when I hit the water."
"Water doesn't usually scrape off a layer of skin."
Sheppard shrugged. "It does when it's hiding a crossbeam."
Beckett leaned on the table and gave him an incredulous look. "Dinna your mother ever tell you not to dive into unknown waters?" Sheppard rolled his eyes.
Beckett said, "And all those cuts, I suppose, are from the crossbeam, as well?"
"Not exactly."
"Well some exactness would be very helpful here, Major, if I'm to know how to treat you." Beckett circled around the table and waved away his assistant. "I'll finish up here. Take your lunch break." He crossed his arms and eyed Sheppard expectantly.
"Fair enough." Sheppard rotated his shoulder and exhaled slowly. "Something had apparently made its home under the crossbeam."
Concern rippled across Beckett's forehead. "It attacked you?"
"No. It just … popped its head out, right beside my nose, as a matter of fact. It wasn't very long, maybe six inches. Kind of cute … in a slimy, moray-eel kind of way. "So I decided to take a look."
"A look?"
"While I was there."
Beckett's eyebrows rose. "And?"
Sheppard tilted his head one way, then the other. "And … it had some hungry family members. Could we dispense with the interrogation? These cuts are really starting to sting."
"Are they now?" Beckett crossed to the medicine cabinet and returned with another vial. He filled a hypodermic needle with milky serum and tapped it. "Lieutenant Ford must have gotten you out quickly for you to only have cuts."
"He's my hero." Sheppard narrowed his eyes. "What kind of shot are you giving me?"
"Tetanus."
"Wait a minute –"
"Come now, Major. You aren't afraid of a little needle, are you?" Beckett smiled. "We don't give tetanus shots in the arse any more, if that's what you're worried about."
"Do they still hurt?"
"Like the Dickens. Hold out your arm."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Sheppard lifted his left arm and glared at the needle.
Beckett paused, needle pointed at the ceiling. "Major, I've dealt with many serious, life-threatening emergencies since coming to Atlantis. And you limp in here because you wanted to take a dip and because you couldn't contain your bloody curiosity enough to leave a harmless sea creature be."
"I wouldn't say harmless …"
"The answer to your question is, aye." Beckett gripped Sheppard's elbow and touched the needle to his bicep. "I am enjoying this, but just a wee bit." He jabbed the needle into Sheppard's arm.
"Ouch!" Sheppard's face contorted. "That's worse than the scratches."
"That one on your knee looks more like a nibble. They did quite a number on your trousers. Good thing they weren't nibbling any higher."
"Very funny."
"Not really. Take them off, Major. I'm going to have to swab all the cuts."
Sheppard stood and started unbuckling his belt. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"
"I've seen cuter behinds than yours, Major. Besides, you can leave your skivvies on. This may sting a little. Best to keep your mind on something else. Something harmless to help you relax. You seem a little tense."
"You just mutilated my arm." Sheppard dropped his pants on the floor, swung onto the table and lay down. "But I'm fine. And I always follow doctor's orders." He ignored the doctor's muffled snort and said, "Something harmless." He flinched when Beckett pressed a cloth against his knee. Then hissed. Whatever was on that cloth felt like a butane lighter scorching his skin. "Sooooo ... Which do you like better, Doc, Star Wars or Star Trek?"
"That's a foolish question," Beckett said as he began to dab the cuts on Sheppard's legs. "Star Trek, of course."
Sheppard spoke through clenched teeth. "The McCoy thing? Brotherhood of doctors and all that?"
"Aye. And you?"
"Ooooh … I kind of like Star Wars." Sheppard curled his fingers over the padded edge of the table and squeezed. "That's … awfully strong antiseptic you're using. Is it … really necessary?"
"Better safe than sorry. So why do you prefer Star Wars? Would it be the brotherhood of comrades-in-arms thing?"
"That's part of it. But hey, Star Wars has the man in black. How cool is that?"
Beckett straightened and faced Sheppard, his expression wary. "That wasn't Johnny Cash in that monkey suit, Major."
Sheppard propped himself on his elbows. "I know that."
"In fact, as bad guys go, he was pretty much the human equivalent of the Wraith."
"Jeez. Don't get your shirt in a knot. It was only a movie."
"Aye, but you and your kind always seem to cheer for the bad guys."
"My kind?" Sheppard sat up, his irritation leaking into his words. "My kind?"
Beckett paid no attention. "And bad guys kill people. They strangle them with a thought and zap them with lightning and suck their lives away." He jabbed a surgically-gloved finger at Sheppard. "And me and my kind have to pick up the pieces."
"I think we might need a sedative."
"Your injuries don't warrant a sedative."
"I wasn't thinking for me."
"Oh, you're very funny, Major. Lie down and take your medicine." Beckett placed his hand on Sheppard's chest and pushed him back into a prone position. He stood over the major and crossed his arms. "It so happens I've never been able to watch a movie without thinking about the human price being paid for our so-called entertainment. Granted, none of it is real. But that violence could be real. Look around you, man: it is real."
"I get your point. No more cheering for the bad guys."
"Too bloody right."
Sheppard started to sit up. "If you're finished, I'll just go get cleaned up now. That tetanus shot must be working. I feel much better now."
"I'm not finished." Beckett pushed him back down. "You'll lie there and let me do my job. And I'll thank you to show me some of that macho soldier thing and be quiet while you're at it." He turned toward the tray and poured more antiseptic on the pink-tinged cloth.
"That's rich," Sheppard muttered, "considering how hard it is to keep you quiet on a mission."
"What did you say, Major?"
"Nothing. Just laying here being quiet. Taking it like a man."
"Good. And next time you want to … take a look … try turning on your brain and giving it a second thought. Even a first one would be good."
Sheppard intertwined his fingers over his mid-section and gave Beckett a strained smile. "I'll do that."
