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carson beckett

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Who: Dr. Carson Beckett, Noah, Connor and Murphy MacManus
What: Patching up and some truths revealed...
When: After the Mirrorland Plot
Where: Room 606
Rating: 12A for swearing.

Not many people have seen inside Dr. Beckett's room in the castle. It's decorated to be like his quarters in Atlantis, sans the stunning ocean view out of the window. It's also considerably bigger, a door leading off to a small lab where the doctor does his work and research.

Either way, when Noah and Carson arrive in the room, Carson immediately directs Noah to a chair, shoving a footstool towards him for his bad ankle. As he goes to prepare his equipment, he pulls his journal out, scribbling in a filter and a notice to the man's kids, letting them know where he was and what was happening.

"Okay, now, Mr. MacManus. Hopefully, this time the treatment will go a wee bit easier."

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Noah was a bit surprised Carson didn't direct him toward the clinic, but instead the man's room. He's never been in it before; he's never had reason, and it surprises him how different it is to most anything else he's seen. Even so, it seems very Carson.

His ankle is throbbing, but his shoulder is awful. He'd heard something snap, but he isn't sure exactly what. The entire area, including his arm and part of his back and chest feels hellish.

Noah's obviously in pain by the look on his face, but he's doing an admirable job staying quiet and still.

"I'm not bleedin' all over th' room, so that's a change."

"Foot up. Get the weight off of it."

Carson comes back with his scanner and his field kit. He plugs the scanner bit into the detector and runs it over Noah's shoulder, scribbling down notes as he goes.

"Shoulder's broken. Doesn't look too bad. Sling, and you won't be using it for a few weeks." A look. "No exceptions, this time."

Noah's already getting that foot up. The ankle feels marginally better without bearing his weight on it.

"Cannae imagine why I'd use th' damned thing if it's broken."

"And I can't imagine why someone would use duct tape on their chest and go for a walk after major open-heart surgery."

You're getting a look, Noah, as Carson fixes up a sling.

"I needed th' exercise. Felt as if my muscles were turnin t'stone."

Noah's giving him a look right back.

"Dinnae worry. I'm not gonna bugger up my shoulder even worse. I'd rather be able t'use it again."

Beckett maintains his look a little bit longer before going back to his work

Carson tosses his notebook onto the table beside Noah. No real reason to it other than to get it out of his hand. On it is scrawled some weird glyphs.

Carson walks over. "Okay, I'm going to adjust your shoulder a wee bit. This will hurt, unless you want a painkiller?"

Noah doesn't miss the glyphs. They make no sense, except to see it's some sort of language. Nothing like he's seen before.

"Tch. Dinnae be muckin' around with drugs; just get it over with."

This isn't helping to stem his suspicions, Noah. Still, he works quickly, rearranging his broken arm slightly before slinging it up.

"It's a mostly clean break. Should heal up in no time."

Psh. You worry too much, Carson. Noah grunts when the bone is set, hands tightening on the chair until the knuckles showed white, but otherwise he made no move or sound.

"A few weeks, aye?" He's had some nasty breaks over time, so news of a clean break was good. In any case, he didn't seem to worried about it.

"I would say so. I'll need to perscribe some physiotherapy, too, for when it starts to heal."

He starts packing his stuff up. "But you should be back to using it in no time."

Noah says nothing about his ankle. He's eager to get going. Too much time in and around medical anythings and he gets jumpy. Too much mortality hanging about.

"Suppose I'll catch up on my readin', then."

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