Beckett’s bed.

By Sealie

Type: mini-genfic
Spoilers: none

Beta: LKY

Contact: sealie@trickster.org or sealie1@hotmail.com

Rodney sauntered into the infirmary. Munching habitually on a Power Bar, he took a moment to scan the quiescent room.

Bit unusual, he observed. Then he remembered to check his large-faced, SGC issued wrist watch.

Zero-four-hundred.

Death time.

He wasn’t suspicious, it was the time that humans were most likely to die -- according to statistical analysis. There was, no doubt, a squishy physiological reason.

The infirmary was unoccupied apart from a lump on the far bed in the corner. Beckett slumbered the sleep of the truly exhausted or very young. So the doctor was pretty tired. McKay padded to the physician’s bedside and leaned over. Beckett seemed to have merged with the mattress in boneless unconsciousness. One of the light blue, knitted blankets was draped over his back and shoulders, but absently, leaving legs and sock covered feet uncovered.

McKay poked him in the shoulder.

Conditioned, Beckett’s eyes flew open. “Rodney?”

“Carson.”

Beckett sat up, the blanket pooling to the side. “What’s the matter?”

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your quarters?”

Beckett regarded him in sleep fuddled amazement. He rubbed his face and then said, “You woke me up from a sound sleep, the best I’ve had in an age, to tell me to go to my quarters?”

McKay masticated a mouthful of grains, sesame seeds, corn syrup, invert sugars and apricots. “There’s no patients; go to your room.”

Beckett winced as he munched, looking away. “It was a long day. It was like running a paediatric unit. Everyone and everybody seemed to drop by.”

“All the more reason to go to your own bed. If you’re here people will find you and wake you up.”

“Aye, there is that,” Beckett said darkly.

“Any rate it’s creepy,” McKay observed.

“What’s creepy?” He flopped back on the bed, head thumping down on the pillow, closing his eyes.

“The bed.” McKay waved his hand. “You know, dead people lay on them.”

Beckett cracked open an eye.

McKay didn’t fidget under the implacable glare. “It is creepy, Carson.”

The gaze continued and McKay munched.

Eventually, Carson broke, “Nobody, and I mean, no body has died in this bed.” He closed his eyes and planted a hand over his eyes. He yawned, sleep stealing up.

“How do you know?” McKay asked.

“Believe you me, I know.”

“Oh.”

Carson sighed, halfway to sleep. “Go away, Rodney. It’s best if a member of the medical personnel is available at all times. Just consider me on duty.” With that he blew out a breath and in a blink was asleep.

McKay watched the rise and fall of Carson’s chest, the rhythm already deep and even. There was no more entertainment to be had. Giving in to his own yawn, he turned to go. Halfway to the door he paused, turned and returned to Carson’s bedside. He made a quick furtive glance, double checking for watchers. Finding none, gingerly he unkinked the blanket and draped it over his friend making sure that his feet were covered.

Stepping back, he pushed his hands deep in his pockets. Next time Shepard was dragged bleeding into the infirmary, he was so going to make sure that he got assigned Beckett’s bed.

Finis