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He woke to muted beeping, mixed with gentle snoring somewhere near his ear. His chest hurt, his head hurt, and he was too warm. He couldn't move his hands, and his glasses were missing - the ceiling was fuzzy and far away. Atlantis? Most probably. Infirmary? If this was Atlantis, and this wasn't the infirmary, then he had no idea. But it was the infirmary - he was fairly certain that the snoring was Carson catching a catnap slumped over the side of his bed.
There was something down his throat, reducing "I itch, all over" to minor status as he choked and gagged, a sound that brought an instant end to the snore. "Hang on, Radek - we've got you intubated. We'll get it out in a minute." A raised voice called for assistance and a few agonizing moments later, Radek was breathing on his own, although he could feel an oxygen cannula settling gently around his face and ears. "Don't try to talk just yet, laddie - your throat's probably sore as a boil. I was none too careful getting that thing in there." Soft, strong hands removed the padded restraints from his wrists.
"Okay." Carson was right - even that whispered sound made the swollen tissues ache like the very devil, and conjured vague memories of the mumps when he was twelve.
"Here, try a few ice chips." A spoon touched his lips, and a blessedly cold sliver landed on his tongue and melted down the back of his abused throat. A few more refreshingly glacial wedges eased the ache a bit and made him bold.
"Wha' hap'?" The last thing he remembered was slapping a mosquito-like insect that was stinging him, then suddenly having trouble breathing…
"As near as I can tell, some wee beastie sampled your blood and left a bit of a donation of it's own. It injected you with an anti-coagulant, like an Earth mosquito would do, to keep your blood flowing. Unfortunately for you, you had a massive anaphylactic reaction. You came very, very close to dying. If I hadn't been along on this trip…" Carson shivered visibly. "Let's just say Doctor Biro would be handling your case now instead of me."
Radek grimaced as he remembered the overly cheerful pathologist. "You are better looking."
"Am I now?" Carson chuckled. "Well, you're not so bad yourself, lad, when you don't look like a ghost with a bad case of measles. You have a truly impressive case of the hives."
"Itches bad."
"Aye, I imagine it does, at that. We've got you on antihistamines and steroids, inside and out - hopefully that will kick in soon and reduce the irritation. Meanwhile, try not to scratch. Would you like a little water?" Carson held up a cup with a straw dangling from it and brought it to Radek's lips.
He drank gratefully, and then sagged back into the pillows. "So tired."
"Then sleep, man. The world will still be here when ye feel like facing it." Carson placed the cup on the table beside the bed, a strained look passing over his face. "I think I can promise that much, at least."
"Carson."
"Huh? Radek?" The sleeping doctor lifted his head off of his hand, bleary-eyed.
"No, not Radek. I came to see how he was doing. Obviously I didn't expect to find the pot that called the kettle black - I'm going to remind you of this the next time you give me hell for sleeping at my desk." Rodney smiled smugly as Carson grimaced and stood, stretching and yawning.
"Radek is doing fine. He woke up briefly and he's off the ventilator and breathing quite well on his own." Carson looked around and grabbed the mug on his desk, half-full of very cold tea. "As for my sleeping habits, I'll thank ye to remember who controls the size and sharpness of the needles used in this infirmary." He took a drink and regretted it instantly - it was old and bitter. He moved to the lab sink to rinse out the mug.
"Hello? Who pissed in your oatmeal this morning? It was just a joke, Carson. I am capable of making one every now and then, you know," Rodney said, annoyed.
"Not now, Rodney - I'm dead tired and I'm down to my last nerve, which you are getting on. Don't push me tonight."
The look on Carson's face shook Rodney a little bit - he'd seen the man worried before, but this wasn't simple worry. Not that Rodney was all that perceptive, which he knew, but Carson was obviously upset on an entirely different level. "What's wrong? He's going to be all right, isn't he?"
"Aye, he'll recover. The real trick to treating anaphylactic shock is keeping the patient alive until his body decides to stop killing him. You'll be ordering him about and calling him names in no time." Spotting the beaker he used as a teakettle, Carson put down his mug and grabbed it, then went to the tap to refill it with water and set it the microwave to heat.
"Well, obviously your bag of voodoo tricks was full enough to pull this off, so I don't see the problem." Rodney watched as Carson rifled through a drawer, emerging with a tea ball and a small bamboo box. "Got another mug?"
"My, aren't we the cheeky bugger. You come in here, wake me out of the most sleep I've had in 48 hours, compare medicine to voodoo yet again, and you've got the nerve to ask for a cup of tea?" Carson's accent became more apparent even as his volume was rising. "I'll have you know this is real Prince of Wales black here, not that bloody stuff that Teyla calls 'tea'. And I'll also have you know that we came within a snail's hair of losing Radek yesterday, and no one seems to understand that but me!" He slammed the box onto the desk in front of him.
"Now wait just a moment, Doctor Seuss - if anyone in this city understands what's involved in anaphylaxis…"
The advantage, Radek reflected, of an open architecture design like Atlantis' was that it made eavesdropping extremely easy. Of course, his Grandmother Katerine always taught him that an eavesdropper never hears good of himself, but so far she was wrong.
So, Carson was worried about him, even though he knew that he would recover fully. This was an interesting piece of data that required investigation. But investigation required first that he get out of this infirmary bed.
They'd been dancing around the attraction between them ever since the nanovirus incident. In the relief and confusion immediately following the crisis, they exchanged a few playful, teasing comments that led Radek to suspect Carson was interested in some sort of relationship between them. But before he could follow up on the tease, Rodney had taken a protesting Carson in tow ("At least give me a moment for a shower, man!") demanding that he produce information for a preliminary report to Elizabeth. Which, while not an unreasonable demand, was certainly a phenomenal case of bad timing for them.
When the box slammed down on the desk and Rodney started calling Carson names, Radek decided it was time for a distraction, and he pushed the call button next to his hand. He saw Carson's hand go to his comm and knew his call had been heard.
"Radek?" Carson immediately moved to his beside, checking the various monitors arrayed around him. "You're awake, then. How do you feel?" A hand went around his wrist, the middle finger settling over the artery. That amused Radek - the machines were keeping perfect track of his pulse, but Carson had to find out for himself.
"Well, my throat is not so sore as it was - and the itching is still there, but I no longer wish to skin myself alive. I would say I was improving nicely."
"Oh, you would, would you? Tell me Dr. Zelenka, where did you study medicine?" Carson returned tartly. "How does your chest feel? And how's the headache?"
"My chest? Sore, like someone's slugged me. The headache has mostly subsided, I think." Radek lifted the neckline of his gown and peered down. "Oh my - that's a most impressive set of bruises. What happened?"
"Your heart quit working there for a bit. I had to do CPR to get you past the crisis. Once I got some epinephrine into you, it settled down." Carson peered at the heart monitor, then looked back at Radek. "Pulse still a bit elevated, but that's understandable. How's your appetite?"
"I could eat a horse. But I will settle for whatever the mess has on hand."
"Right. The last I heard, the nearest horse was approximately 3 billion light years thataway," said Carson, pointing up. "But we might be able to manage some soup. If you're a good boy, I'll even let you crumble crackers into it." He winked and looked over at Rodney, who moved up behind him. "I'll leave you to Rodney's tender mercies for a moment. Rodney, play nice, and don't raise his blood pressure or I'll part what's left of your hair with a scalpel." Carson smiled broadly and headed for the mess hall.
"Did you hear that? It's not bad enough he has voodoo dolls of me with little pins stuck in them, but now he's threatening me with instruments of torture." Rodney moved closer to the bed.
"I'm not sure I heard him at all - I think my condition has made me hard of hearing. Though my hearing might improve if you would do me the very great favor of bringing me my laptop? Also handing me that glass of water would help." Radek smiled pleasantly.
"Oh, right, of course you'd take his side. The two of you are like Bush and Blair - one of you lies and the other swears to it." Rodney gave the glass to him. "As for your laptop, only if Doctor Dragon there okays it. Though you must be doing better or he wouldn't have left you alone with me. Several of us wanted to visit you but he wouldn't even let Elizabeth in - when she asked he had a Scottish shitfit and that scared the rest of your admirers off. Just a touch obsessive, if you ask me."
"Elizabeth is obsessing over me?" Radek finished drinking and set the glass on the small table next to the bed. "That is flattering, but she is not my type, really. I shall have to let her down easy."
"Not Elizabeth, oh brainless one. Carson! The SGC should be so well guarded. I hope he's your type, because the way he's acting, it must be love."
"And if he is 'my type'? What would you think of that?" Radek looked at Rodney, curious.
"Eh? I don't care who or what you sleep with - if I was going to worry about that I'd have to fire half my staff. Or hadn't you noticed what's been going on for the past few months?"
"Oh, I have noticed, yes. The longer we are out of contact with Earth, the less such things will matter, I suspect. Even the Marines are starting to think about branching out. The ratio of men to women on the expedition will demand that a few compromises be made, and alternatives examined, I am sure." Radek chuckled. "It helps that our leader is female. Often I have found that women are much more practical about sex than men."
"Is Carson a compromise, Radek? You've always struck me as quite sensible and levelheaded, second only to myself. But you're not a person who accepts less than exactly what you want," Rodney said with a smirk.
"Compromise? Oh, no - I am not altogether certain what is between us, but it is not a compromise that either of us is interested in. It will certainly demand exploration and experimentation, on a continuing basis."
"Exploration and experimentation? OK, that officially takes us straight into way more information than I needed. Just let me know if anyone gives you grief. Your witch doctor may control this infirmary, but we control the power and the plumbing."
Radek grinned. "He is not 'my witch doctor' - not yet, at least. But in this, I am like one of your Mounted Police - I always get my man."
Movement in the corner of his eye drew Radek's attention, and he saw Carson returning with a tray in hand. Rodney followed his gaze, then turned back to him. "Good luck with that, uh, experiment. I've got to get back to the lab. I'm sure Miko has reduced Kavanaugh to tears by now. Of course, she's only following orders." He patted Radek on the arm. "Hurry up and get well. Simpson is trying to steal your favorite work bench, and she's not nearly as decorative as you."
The next day, Carson encouraged Radek to get out of bed and begin to move around the infirmary, cautiously at first, then for increasing periods of time. The staff became accustomed to him wandering quietly through the infirmary in search of relief from boredom. Rodney had been allowed to bring him a laptop, finally, and he'd caught up on a good deal of work right from his bed. But one could not work all of the time.
A few visitors came to see him. Elizabeth stopped by for some encouraging words and to offer a CD crammed full of e-books for him to read. They spent a few moments catching up on city gossip, and Radek laughed out loud when Elizabeth described Rodney tailing Major Sheppard all over the city, worried about what a young woman named Chaya might be doing to him or for him. That she was reputed to be an Ancient made Radek extremely curious, but he had to settle for a glimpse of her as Sheppard escorted her in and out of the infirmary.
After a few days, Radek was restless and ready to get out of the infirmary, but Carson seemed hesitant about releasing him. Deciding his doctor needed empirical proof of his recovering health, he began Phase One of his new experiment by clambering out of bed and heading for the converted storage closet Carson called his office.
Not-quite-sneaking through the doorway, he found Carson standing with his back to the door examining something on his desk. He tapped the object of his experiment on the shoulder. Carson turned away from the desk and looked up as Radek stepped close. A hand placed in the middle of his chest puzzled him even as it gently forced him to move away from his desk and into a corner of the room. "Radek? What are you… "
Radek leaned in and stopped any further questions by pressing his lips against Carson's, gently at first, then firmly as he made no objection to the proceedings. He slowly, carefully, ran his tongue along Carson's lower lip asking for and receiving permission to enter. He felt more than heard the moan Carson made into his mouth, and returned a moan of his own as arms went around his waist and pressed their bodies together. He heard the office door slide shut and the muffled click of the locking mechanism.
Oh yes, he thought. We definitely should have done this sooner.